


Eleutheromania

by Anna_the_undertaker



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_the_undertaker/pseuds/Anna_the_undertaker
Summary: “RUN! MOVE FASTER, DAMMIT!” her mind screamed as she burst through the trees.She could hear the thundering voices of the hunters that tracked her.“I have to move… I can’t stay here…”Her muscles were screaming when she broke out into a run once more and just in time. A hunter burst out of the shadows, aiming his bow at her. He missed but just barely.“Shit, shit, SHIT!” she muttered. “Gotta find the river… the river… focus.”The sound of rushing water caught her ears and she changed direction to find it.“Almost there… Just let me get there!”She ran and jumped in, the muffled sound of frantic voices barely reached her ears as the water forced her away.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 42





	1. Metanoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idrilla's appearance - 
> 
> https://anna-the-undertaker.tumblr.com/post/627765477660409856/my-dragon-age-inquisition-oc-idrilla

_“RUN! MOVE FASTER, DAMMIT!” her mind screamed as she burst through the trees._

_She could hear the thundering voices of the hunters that tracked her._

_She pushed herself to move swiftly even though her legs and face were on fire. Glancing down quickly, she took note that they were pouring blood, the hard leather of Fen’Harel’s teeth pushed the nails deeper into her flesh, the pain only growing worse but the adrenaline kept her moving._

_A cluster of rocks sat a few feet away from her, she hid behind them and got to work. She focused her mana into her hands and they were engulfed in flames, the smell of iron and singed fabric clung to the air. Once her hands were free she pulled out the tiny blade she had hidden under her breast band and started cutting the leather. It was thick and difficult to maneuver, but she was able to loosen them enough to start pulling herself free. The nails stung as they were removed and the cold night air hit her wounds, but she ignored it. When they were all out she was breathing heavily and weakened from blood loss. Forcing herself to stand, she used the little bit of healing magic she could muster and stopped the bleeding._

_“I have to move… I can’t stay here…”_

_Her muscles were screaming when she broke out into a run once more and just in time. A hunter burst out of the shadows, aiming his bow at her. He missed but just barely._

_“Shit, shit, SHIT!” she muttered. “Gotta find the river… the river… focus.”_

_The sound of rushing water caught her ears and she changed direction to find it._

_“Almost there… Just let me get there!”_

_The water came into view and she looked at it, contemplating her chances of not drowning, but the sound of the clans grew closer. There was no time to worry about the consequences, even if she did die, she would die on her terms. She rushed towards the rushing water and jumped in, the muffled sound of frantic voices barely reached her ears as the water forced her away._

Idrilla woke with her head pounding. She clutched her brow and waited for the ringing in her ears to subside. The memory of the pain made her scars and Vallaslin itch but she tried to ignore it. It was already dawn and she had to move on, sleeping near Lake Callenhad wasn’t her first choice but with all of the recent fighting going on it was hard enough to find a shelter that wasn’t already occupied by refugees or fleeing mages so she had little choice than to stay out in the open. 

She had another week of traveling, probably not even that if she wasn’t stopped by anyone or anything until she reached her destination; a cave on the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest. A place that had been her haven for many years. Her current trip was uneventful, a craving for the familiar even if it would only last a short time. It had become a ritual, or habit, of some sort to come back to the ruined shrine and give her offering to the place that had given her shelter and hid her from her pursuers, and tell her stories of where she had gone, what places she had seen and the things she discovered about her peoples’ ancestors; as well as the spirits and people she had encountered. Although... the way things were now, with the infighting between the chantry and the inquisition, the tevinter mages, and the qunari, she doubted her journey would be easy going. 

She had already made it across the Bannorn and passed through the ruins of Lothering to the Southron Hills when she was stopped by a group of Inquisition scouts. She watched them with a blank expression and waited for them to say something before she finally brought the wolf skull pelt down from her head.

“Lady Marel?” one of the scouts asked.

She nodded for him to continue.

“We were sent by Lady Nightingale to escort you to Skyhold so that she can meet you,” he began. “That is if you are willing.” 

Idrilla chuckled, “Is there a reason why I should care about her wanting to meet me? I have many things on my plate at the moment and I can’t ignore them so we can exchange pleasantries over food and drink. So I’ll need a better explanation than that, as to why I should even bother with your organization.” 

“She wishes to acquire your services for the Inquisition as one of the inner circle and as a spy for her network while you go on missions with the Inquisitor.”

She burst into empty laughter, “If I recall correctly, Your _blessed_ Inquisitor is a Dalish elf. What makes her believe that he would accept the help of their cursed traitor?” 

“She doesn’t,” he answered quickly. “But most of the recruiting is done by Lady Nightingale, so he doesn’t have much of a choice than to let her evaluate you. If you do not meet her expectations or if you do not wish to join then you are free to go on your way.”

“As if she could stop me from leaving to begin with,” She chuckled again. “Very well, I will accompany you to Tarasyl’an Tel’as, but I won’t promise that I’ll stay.”

They nodded and started to walk away, but she stopped them.

“You are taking a long way,” she stated and they looked at her curiously. “Sindri’s pass will take far too long, three weeks at the least, and we can’t pass through Haven thanks to its current state. We should take an unmapped route otherwise we are liable to run into red templars or venatori agents.”

“How would you know of this?” the leader asked cautiously.

She smiled wickedly, “Do you truly believe you are the first to find the fortress in recent memory? That place is always waiting for someone to inhabit it.”

A week and a half passed by before they finally saw the gates of the fortress. They hadn’t slowed down on their way there, only resting for a few hours so that some of the group could sleep, but she never did. Even though they approached her as allies, she wasn’t naive enough to sleep out in the open near them. For all she knew, it could have been a ploy so that they could stick a dagger in her back, she did have a few enemies. When they passed through the archway many eyes fell on her as she led the group inside. 

“You did well,” she commended. “Very few can keep up with me. Keep the hidden pass in mind for emergencies and try to keep it a secret from the public. It would work well as an escape route should the need arise or to help with this spy network of yours.” 

“Of course, Lady Marel.” the young man bowed his head lightly before gesturing for her to follow.

She nodded and shadowed him through the crowds of people, mostly humans though that didn’t surprise her. The courtyard was as big as she remembered, but it felt different now that it had been cleared of rubble. With the people bustling about it carried a different aura; it no longer had the sad feeling of emptiness as before but held a strong sense of urgency as she watched servants and soldiers alike rush by. She returned her attention to the scout as he approached the first set of stairs. At the top, she saw they had added in a tavern. It looked out of place among all of the old stone but she didn’t have time to examine anymore as the boy took a sharp turn towards another set of stairs leading to the massive doors of the fortress itself. 

The first room she saw was the dining hall that also housed the Inquisitor’s throne; a not so modest seat made from a dragon’s skull. It filled her with rage to think that the Inquisition most likely hunted the creature down and slaughtered it. They were normally solitary creatures that rarely hunted near populated areas. However, she refused to let her distaste show. They passed through another door, the first thing she saw was the all-seeing eye of the inquisition staring back at her from the mural it was painted into; four howling wolves surrounded it. As she looked around the rotunda she saw that there were more, each of them telling a different story. They were beautiful and she couldn’t help but stop to admire them, running her fingers along the dried plaster to feel the texture and compare it to those she had seen in ancient elvhen ruins. They were almost identical, but these were more refined thanks to how fresh they were. She was in awe of them.

“Who painted these?” she breathed. 

The scout watched her for a moment. She was finally showing some form of emotion.

"That would be Serah Solas,” he answered.

“Could I meet him? I would love to ask him some questions about these.” she looked over at the young man.

“I’m afraid not. Serah Solas is with the Inquisitor in Crestwood at the moment. They won’t be back for another week or so.”

She sighed, “Very well, take me to Nightingale then. I’m sure she has already been listening intently from the rookery anyway.” She looked up and smirked when she saw a middle-aged woman with fiery red hair step out of the shadows. 

They climbed the steps, walking through the library. A dark-skinned man with dark hair, his face shielded by a book sat languidly in an armchair. She noticed the book lower slightly with his brow raised as they passed by his little nook. More steps awaited them and at the top, she spotted the redhead. 

“Greetings, Marel. I welcome you to Skyhold,” She began. “I am the Inquisitions Spymaster, but you may call me Leliana.”

She bowed her head slightly, “My name is Idrilla if there are to be introductions, but I’m sure you already know that thanks to Zevran.”

Leliana’s eyes widened slightly, “And how could you know it was Zevran that told me about you?” she asked suspiciously.

Idrilla barked out a laugh, “Zev is the only person that calls me ‘Marel’. He thinks he’s clever because it means ‘Your dreaded one’. Although I have never really cared for that name, I am sure you have already told your scouts to address me as such so I suppose I can tolerate it. It is much like your own title, _Lady Nightingale._ ”

The woman chuckled, “Of course, _Lady Marel,_ ” she teased back. “I must ask though, how do you know the former Antivan Crow?”

Idrilla sighed, “I know the Hero of Ferelden from childhood, though we do have an age gap of around four years or so. I ran into Harea and Zevran while on my way to Portsmouth and we traveled together for a while. In that time I was able to get to know Zev and he taught me the skills I needed to protect myself other than using my magic."

"He trained you as an assassin?" She asked, only half surprised.

"Yes," Idrilla said. "However, it took a lot of convincing from Harea and myself to get him to agree. Eventually, he said he would do it if I allowed him to, and I quote, 'sign his masterpiece'. Which meant he wanted to add onto my tattoos."

She pulled her cloak off, exposing her arms and they were covered to her fingernails with ink. She wore a tight-fitting, open back, halter top underneath and turned around so the Spymaster could see Zevran's work. Intricate lines covered the entirety of her upper back forming into a flower. At its center was a wolf surrounded by colors of green and gold in a circular pattern, one commonly found in ancient elvhen murals. 

A stark contrast to the blood-red ink that marked her face. 

"They are beautiful, Idrilla," Leliana said.

She put her cloak back on, "Ma serannas, Leliana," she replied. "However, back to the matter at hand. I was told you wished to see me and I hope I haven't wasted my time by coming here for idle conversation."

"Of course, Idrilla. With everything Zevran told me, I believe you would be a very valuable asset to the Inquisition. Even if you haven't made a decision yet, I hope you will stay and observe before you decide." 

"Ma nuvenin, Leliana," she agreed. "However, I have yet to see anything that would truly require my services or anything that is of any interest to me other than the fact this place is no longer the ruin I remember. I will take advantage of the libraries while I'm here as well. I'm sure your organization has acquired many hard to find books. However for the time being I would like to rest. I have been on the road for weeks now."

"No longer?" Leliana questioned.

Idrilla chuckled, "Ah, I almost forgot to mention this, but I have been here before, fifteen years ago to be precise." 

The woman watched her thoughtfully but didn't say anything. 

"Now, if you will excuse me, I'll be on my way."

"Of course, I'll have someone prepare a room for you in the meantime." Leliana offered.

Idrilla nodded softly, "I'll be in the hidden library if you need me, till then… I would appreciate it if I weren't disturbed." she said, it was more of a demand and not a request, but she knew Leliana would comply if she truly wanted her help. 

From what she could remember, the hidden library was on the lower level near the kitchens, which looked like nothing more than a pile of rubble the last time she had been to Skyhold. She made her way through the library, passing by the dark-haired man once more who watched her carefully, and down through the rotunda. She stopped for a moment to look at the frescoes again. They were beautiful in their simplicity and she only wished she could ask their creator where he had learned to paint in such away. 

Being in the dining hall was like being inside of a hornets' nest. Even though the Inquisitor was gone, nobles still swarmed the entirety of the room, talking and spreading whispers of rumors that most would not catch if they weren’t trained to listen for them. According to what she heard, the Champion of Kirkwall had been in the fortress recently but had left ahead of the Inquisitor's party to go take care of something in Crestwood. She was curious to know what could interest them in such a place. She had passed through that small town close to a month prior and there was nothing more than an overbearing sense of unease that lingered there. Rifts and corrupted spirits had made the place their home so hopefully the Inquisitor, and whoever he had taken with him, could do something to stop or at least ease the suffering on the land and its inhabitants. But that was a lot of faith she wasn’t willing to place in such a small group of people who barely had any idea what they were dealing with. Granted, she wasn’t willing to place her faith in the organization at the moment either. From everything she heard on the road, they had been able to seal the massive rift only to be attacked shortly after by something. She hadn’t been in Ferelden at the time, but she saw it; how the veil rippled and shook when it was “stitched” back together. The veil had fought against it as if it weren’t meant to be there. She shook the thought from her mind and continued observing the people that came and went when a voice reached her ears making them twitch.

“See anything interesting?” 

She turned to her left to find a dwarf sitting at a table in front of a hearth with a mug of ale sitting partly untouched next to a stack of papers in front of him.

He raised his brow at her and she finally came back to her senses, “Not particularly. Just getting a sense of this place now that it's been rebuilt and people are here to attract spirits. It seems quite tame for the infamous Inquisition people have been talking about.”

He laughed, “You sound like chuckles… I’m starting to think that might be an elf thing.”

“And who might this ‘chuckles’ be exactly?” she asked monotonously.

“He is the Inquisitions ‘Fade expert’ if you believe there could be such a thing.”

She raised a brow questioningly and he laughed again.

“And who might you be? I haven’t seen you around here before,” he asked as he sat his quill down.

“And how would you know I haven’t been here?” she asked.

He smirked and shook his head, “I can assure you I would remember seeing your face. You don’t look like any of the maids or cooks. You stick out like a sore thumb with the dreads and tattoos, not to mention the staff on your back.”

She chuckled, “Point taken, my name is Idrilla. And you are?”

“Varric Tethras. Rogue, Storyteller, and sometimes unwelcome conversationalist.”

The realization hit her, “Ah, the author of the Tale of the Champion. I’ve read quite a few of your books.” 

“I’m always happy to meet my fans-” he started but one of the nobles cut him off.

“You there, elf,” he said looking at Idrilla who blatantly ignored the man. “Go to the kitchens and fetch some more cheese platters.”

She didn’t even look at him, “I am not a servant nor am I a dog that will _fetch_ anything for you .”

The man gasped, “How dare you speak to me in such a way! Do you have any idea who I am?!”

Idrilla sighed, “No, and frankly, I don’t care,” she turned her head to give him an icy glare. “You are far from your finery of Orlais and have seemed to have forgotten that not every _elf_ you see is a servant that will answer to your every whim. Like you, I am a guest in this fortress so I have no rules of conduct that will keep me from wringing your neck if you ever demand such a thing from me again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish my discussion with my future colleague which you rudely interrupted.” 

She looked away from him and back at Varric who seemed to be doing everything in his power to keep from laughing.

The noble huffed, “Putain d’oreille de couteau…” he muttered.

Idrilla cut her eyes at him, “Ne parle pas comme si je ne t’entendais pas.” 

The man stiffened and quickly retreated from view making her smirk. Once he was gone Varric couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Now you have to tell me what you said because the look on his face was priceless.” he laughed. 

“Are you fishing for material for a new book?” she asked cheekily.

“Partly, but I really wanna know what ruffled his feathers so badly.”

She thought for a moment, “Very well, in exchange, I would like a bit of information.”

“That depends on what information you want,” he hummed. “I don’t deal in secrets like Leliana.”

“Do not worry, Master Tethras. I just want to know about the type of people the Inquisitors' companions are, considering I may be joining their ranks. I’m sure you are one of them so you are perfectly up to the task. To make the offer more appealing, if there is anything you would prefer not to answer I will not pry and you may ask questions if you so desire but I cannot promise I will answer.” 

Varric smiled and gestured for her to take a seat. Idrilla nodded and took her cloak off, laying it over the back of the chair before accepting the offer.

“Would you like a drink? I can ask one of the maids to bring one for you.” Varric asked.

She gave a slight nod, “Anything but alcohol and tea would be great.” 

“You don’t like tea either?” He asked.

She raised her brow, “What do you mean?” 

“Chuckles doesn’t like it. Says that he detests the stuff. Is it an elf thing?” 

“No,” she answered. “It makes it hard for me to sleep and enter the fade when I dream. It has never done me any favors, not that the taste is any better.” 

He hummed in understanding, if not without amusement, “Alright, well, ask for anything you like and I’ll make it happen. I’m sure we will be here for a while.” 

“Milk and honey would be great.”

He smiled, “Coming right up,” he said then called a servant over, a young human girl that didn't look any older than nineteen. “Another mug of ale for me and some milk and honey for the lady.” 

The girl nodded and scurried away.

Varric looked at her, “Now, back to business. What was all that Orelsian about?”

“He called me a knife ear so I told him not to talk as if I couldn't understand him.”

“Oh, that’s rich!” he laughed. “Why does an elf not from Orlais need to know how to speak Orlesian anyway?”

She shrugged, “Mainly out of necessity thanks to my type of work and my travels. I’ve been to Orlais a few times and speaking in the common tongue doesn’t always make those noble pricks take you seriously, but an elf, let alone a dalish, speaking their native tongue tends to shock them speechless and do the trick.” 

He smiled, clearly enjoying himself, “Know any other languages?” he asked.

“A few,” she answered. “A bit of Tevene thanks to tracking down slavers which are mainly curses, threats, and titles, some qunlat from being near Kirkwall while they occupied the city which once again consists of curses and titles, and ancient elvhen, however, it isn’t perfect.” 

"Damn, you were in Kirkwall?” 

Before she could answer the maid returned with their drinks, "Here you are." 

Varric nodded in thanks but Idrilla stopped the girl before she could leave and slipped a few silvers in her palm.

"I don't like the idea of being served without giving some form of payment so take these."

The girl stared at her in awe, "Thank you, miss." 

Idrilla nodded and began adding the honey to her drink, but the girl began speaking again.

"Are… are you dalish? I've never seen an elf like you before…"

She nodded, "Vin, da'len."

The girl's eyes widened, "Wow…" 

“Claire!” One of the other maids called out when she passed by. “Come on we have to start setting up for dinner.” 

“Alright,” Claire answered. “Forgive me, serah, but I have to go.”

“Run along then, da’len,” Idrilla said not paying much attention to the girl. In all honesty, she was glad to be rid of her questions.

Varric smiled and she raised her brow at him, “What?” 

“What does ‘da’len’ mean?” he asked.

She sighed, “It means ‘child’ or literally ‘little one’. I’m old enough to be the girl's mother so it seemed appropriate.”

“How old are you?”

“I just reached my forty first year… why?” 

“Just curious, but you were in Kirkwall? When? I don’t remember seeing you in the city.”

Idrilla barked out a laugh, “As if I would enter the city with the Qunari and Meredith roaming the streets. I had business with clan Sebrae, a group of Dalish that was stuck outside the city on the mountain. On top of that, I was hoping to see an old friend of mine.” 

“Who was the friend? I might know them since Hawke did work for the Dalish from time to time,” he asked.

“You should know her well,” she chuckled. “By the time I reached the camp she had already been away from the clan for some time. Her name is Merrill.” 

“Wait… you know Daisy?” he was surprised.

She nodded, “Yes, though I doubt she would have wanted to see me after everything the clans had been saying about me.” 

“There is a story behind that, I can tell. Plan on sharing?”

“No,” she said flatly. “I’ve no intention of speaking of it when I barely know you.”

“That’s fair,” he dropped the subject. “Anyone else you know from the motley crew I call friends?”

“Fenris.”

The dwarf almost spat his drink across the table, “Shit, I didn’t think he was capable of making friends. How in the world were you able to get past all of the sharp edges and brooding?” 

She shrugged, “I was traveling through the coast when I was attacked by some slavers. I killed over half of them when he showed up. We spoke little at first, but I found a map on one of the bodies along with a letter stating that there was a cave nearby where they were to drop off the ‘merchandise’,” the word made her sneer. “I asked if he was coming and he agreed. We talked as we scoped the place out and even though he didn’t like the fact I was a mage, we found out we had a lot in common. Hatred towards slavers for one, and secondly, being branded against your will.”

“I vaguely remember him mentioning something about a strange elf with tattoos similar to his markings,” Varric tapped his chin. “I thought he was losing it, but I guess not.”

She shrugged again, “I didn’t stay long after that, taking out an entire den of slavers won’t keep you out of sight so I left. I never did get to thank Telban’fen for showing me a pass out of the watch of the Templars, but it is what it is.”

The dwarf looked confused and tripped over the pronunciation, “Telban’fen?” he questioned.

“It’s the nickname I gave him. It means ‘White wolf’.”

He was laughing hard now, “You gave him a nickname,” he caught his breath. “I can’t imagine he was happy about that.”

She shook her head, “On the contrary, he didn’t care. According to him, it was better than being called ‘Broody’. Besides we were camped out for almost two days so I had time to figure one out for him.” 

“Now that hurts. I gave him that nickname.” 

She laughed lightly, “I know.”

Varric smiled, “I’m going to have to use that nickname and see how he reacts. I might send him a letter.”

“If you do, tell him Idrilla said ‘Na via lerno victoria, only the living know victory’.”

“Well,” Varric began as he propped his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “I don’t have any more questions… for now. What would you like to know about our little group?” 

She thought for a moment, “To start, I’d like to know their names and those that are still in the fortress, besides you of course.”

“That’s easy enough, Solas, Sera, and Cole left with the boss so that leaves Vivienne, Iron Bull, Cassandra, Dorian, and Blackwall.” 

They spoke in-depth for a while about who was who and where to find them. Idrilla had to admit it was impressive that they had such a diverse group and could still work together. It was quite daunting; four humans, two elves excluding the Inquisitor, a qunari, and a spirit in human form that hadn’t possessed a body. She knew she would have to meet them eventually, but at the moment exhaustion was beginning to take its toll.

“Ir abelas, Master Tethras, but I fear we will have to leave the questions here for now. I don’t believe I will be able to keep my eyes open for much longer.”

“Please, I hear that enough from Chuckles already. Just call me Varric. I can introduce you to everyone tomorrow.”

“Ma serannas, Varric.”

He smiled broadly, “No problem, Snarky.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname but didn’t try to stop him considering she knew it _wouldn't_ do her any good. She took her leave after that and headed down to the hidden library as she had originally intended. Idrilla opened the door that led to the staircase and saw a dark-skinned woman sitting at a desk on the far side of the adjacent room. Quickly and quietly she slipped into the stairwell before she could notice and made her way down. 

It was easy to find the room she was looking for and stepped inside. After sitting her things down she looked around. 

“It’s covered in dust,” she thought. “They must not use anything here… or rather, can’t read any of it.” 

Running her finger along the dest, a thick layer of it came off and she sighed. She was going to have to do something about it, but for now, she needed sleep. She grabbed her pack and pulled out her bedroll. She rarely got to use it so it was a nice change from having to be ready to run at a moment's notice. After laying it out she tossed her pack down on it for a pillow and got comfy, untying her hair and wrapping her cloak around her tightly before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Welcome to the Inquisition

Idrilla woke to the sound of the door opening and reflexively grabbed her staff only to stop short when she saw it was the scout from the day before. 

“I’m not sure if it’s out of habit for you or what, but next time make your presence known before entering. I could have killed you just now.” She said groggily.

The boy nodded, “I apologize, Lady Marel. I was asked to check on you by Lady Nightingale. She wanted to make sure you were resting comfortably and if you weren’t up yet to let her know so that she could keep you from being disturbed as you requested, but it seems I have done exactly that.” 

She waved him off, “It’s fine. Is there anything else you need?”

“Yes. Since you are awake, I am going to show you to your quarters then after, escort you to the spymaster.”

“Very well, give me a moment to change and we can be on our way.”

The scout bowed his head and took his leave. She stared down at her lap for a long moment before rubbing her eyes and finally getting up. She didn’t know what she was in for. In all honesty, the only reason she agreed to come was to see how far they would go to keep her safe. She had a few people that were chasing her and with any luck, she could use the Inquisitions resources to find them and take them out before they reached her. But she wasn’t about to give them her loyalty or assistance just yet. She dug through her bag and pulled out a long-sleeved tunic and new leggings. 

“I should have changed last night, but…” she thought as she pulled the shirt over her head. 

The muscles in her shoulders were tight from sleeping on the floor and the cold air did nothing but make it worse. However, she wasn’t about to complain considering she had an actual roof over her head and a set of sturdy walls to protect her for the moment. Once dressed she styled her hair so that it would be out of the way but still protect her from the cold; taking two of the ash black dreads and tying the remainder back so that it flowed down her spine comfortably. One of the shorter ones hung by her face. She covered her feet in her leg wraps before casting a spell to shield them from the cold.

Stepping out of the small room with her cloak in place and her pack strapped to her back the scout smiled at her.

“What’s your name? I feel a bit awkward just referring to you as ‘Scout’...” she inquired as she began following him back to the dining hall.

“It’s Jonah, my lady.” 

“There is no need for formalities at this point. Traveling together is a great way to get past those titles so just call me Idrilla or Marel if that’s more comfortable for you.”

He faltered slightly but quickly righted himself, “Alright, Marel. In return, I hope you stay as familiar with me.”

“Of course, Jonah.”

They finally reached the main hall and Idrilla grabbed a loaf of bread and a few pieces of smoked meat. As they made their way up yet another set of stairs and passed through a loft above the main hall that had many expensive pieces of Orlesian furniture. Idrilla wore a confused expression but said nothing. They came to a walkway that overlooked the garden with multiple doors along the wall. Coming to a stop at the last door, Jonah let her inside. It had been cleaned but there was still a hole in the ceiling, not that she minded it. It was a good size for just her and she would appreciate the privacy. The bed was small but that wasn’t an issue. The fireplace would also be a great asset since they were so deep in the mountains. 

She smiled softly, walked inside, and began unpacking her things. Setting her staff in the corner of the room so that it was out of the way but still within reach, then taking out her journals and sitting them on the desk along with the tomes she hadn’t finished reading, then the few pieces of clothing and her armor that were placed in the small dresser in the corner of the room. Last but not least, a small asymmetrical case made of ironwood with intricate carvings that covered its entirety. After unbuckling the two straps of the harness she opened it to reveal an hourglass-shaped violin. The bow was strapped to the side of the case which was lined with dark red velvety fabric, a piece of cloth covered the majority of the instrument. Sighing, she closed it once more and sat it down on the dresser. She took off her cloak and laid it on the bed before returning to Jonah’s side. 

“Lady Nightingale is working on having the roof fixed soon. For now, she hopes the room is adequate, as does Lady Josephine,” He bowed slightly. “If you would please follow me, I will take you to see the spymaster.”

Idrilla chuckled, “I can assure you the room is more than enough. I have slept in many questionable places in the past so this is a luxury if there ever was one.” 

He smiled brightly and beckoned for her to follow, but they were stopped in their tracks when one of the other doors opened. A woman stepped out, her outfit consisted mostly of expensive white fabric. Her warm brown skin glowed in the morning light. When Idrilla saw her face she recognized her instantly. Vivienne, Duke Bastien’s lover, and enchantress to the Imperial court. She had thought the name was familiar when Varric mentioned it but couldn’t place it until now. She had never actually spoken to the woman but she was sure Vivienne would recognize her since she had been invited to many of the Duke’s gatherings as musical entertainment.

As predicted she glanced their way and a smile appeared on her lips.

“Ah, my dear, it has been a long time since I last saw your face.” 

Idrilla smiled sweetly, “That it has, Madame De Fer. I regret that we haven’t had the pleasure of speaking until now. You may call me Idrilla.” 

“If I might ask, what brings you to Skyhold? I wasn’t aware the Inquisition required a bard.” 

“I have other... skills that the spymaster is interested in.” 

Vivienne’s smile dropped immediately, already piecing together what she meant, “I see.”

“If it is any consolation, those said skills were never used while performing for the Duke. He was nothing but good to me over the years so I had no intention of endangering or exploiting him in any way. Speaking of him, I heard what happened and I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man that didn’t deserve his fate.”

The enchanter relaxed when she saw that Idrilla was being completely sincere and honest, “Thank you, my dear. I’m sure he would be delighted to hear that. You were one of his favorite entertainers.”

They talked for a short while before Vivienne left and Idrilla was finally released from her mental restraints. She let out a breath of relief and looked at Jonah from the corner of her eye to find him watching her curiously. 

“Shall we go, Jonah? I wouldn’t want to keep the spymaster waiting.”

He nodded and led her back through the loft where the enchanter was lounging, then through another door that went straight to the library. The dark-skinned man was in the same place as the previous day but she wasn’t able to get a better look at him since Jonah took her straight up to the spymaster’s hideaway. The redhead smiled lightly upon seeing her and got straight to business. 

“Good morning, Idrilla. Did you sleep well?”

Idrilla bowed her head, “Quite nicely. It was pleasant to have an actual roof above my head for a change.”

Leliana nodded, “And your living quarters? Is it sufficient?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Now that we have that out of the way, the other advisors want to meet you.”

Leliana led her to the war room. Many eyes watched them closely as they passed through the crowds of nobles, they even passed by Varric who smirked at her. They cut through what looked to be an office then came to a stop in front of a set of heavy wooden doors. They opened with a creak and they stepped inside. Idrilla came face to face with two more humans. A man with curly blond hair and fair skin; his posture told the story of a man who had spent most of his life, fighting. The woman had tanned skin and dark hair, the fabric of her clothes told her that she came from a wealthy family, probably from overseas. 

“Cullen, Josie, this is Idrilla. The woman I told you about,” Leliana introduced her. “Idrilla, these are the other advisors Josephine Montilyet and Cullen Rutherford.”

Idrilla bowed lowly, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“We have heard a lot about you from Leliana. I’m eager to see what you will be able to contribute to our cause,” Cullen continued.

Josephine chimed in excitedly, “As am I.” 

“Would you be willing to demonstrate some of your skills?” Leliana asked with a curious glint in her eyes.

“Alright…” she looked over each of them. “Cullen, your posture suggests that you have spent much of your life in service, most likely as a templar. You have your sword at the ready at all times, for example, at this very moment, your hand is resting on the hilt of the blade prepared to draw at a second’s notice. Also, the bags under your eyes suggest that you have a hard time sleeping, more than likely from nightmares. Your accent tells me that you are from Ferelden.” 

She then looked at Josephine, “You, on the other hand, are from overseas. My guess, from your accent and skin tone, is Antiva. However, there is a foreign lith in your voice that suggests you have been away from home for some time. The way you hold your quill and the quality of your clothes suggest a high education and wealth. Your posture tells me that you most likely studied abroad, my closest guess is in Orlais, the capital city to be more exact.”

Both of them stared at her wide-eyed as she turned her attention to Leliana, “It’s harder to pinpoint much of anything about you, but I take that as a sign that you have had training as a bard. There is a feeling of pain and a life of subterfuge that has been embedded in the way you hold yourself. However, the accent tells me that you spent much of your life in Orlais but came to Ferelden later on. The altar in the rookery above the rotunda told me that you are Andrastian and very devout.” 

“That was…” Josephine was at a loss for words. “How were you able to figure all of that out?”

“Observational analysis of societal and genetic markers that most people would overlook,” she began. “Mannerisms, accent, posture, your manner of speaking, even the way someone walks can tell me a lot about a person. What their status is, their background, level of education, ethnicity, even their religious beliefs. These markers are harder to hide since they are imprinted into a person’s way of living. However, like the spymaster, some people have mastered the art of masking these tells to keep their identity hidden.” 

“That’s impressive,” Cullen commended. “What other skills do you have?” 

“I’m a mage, but I also have training as a rogue. An assassin to be more specific and a bit of training as a bard. I have studied multiple languages, as well. I can also play instruments and sing, but I doubt that is what you are asking.” 

The word mage seemed to put him on edge, not that her being an assassin and a bard was any better. 

“Healing, elemental manipulation, and shapeshifting are my specialties when it comes to magic. I primarily use a bow while fighting. The staff I carry is mostly used as a walking stick… and as a warning.” 

“Are you from the Dalish?” Josephine asked.

“I was not born among them but I was raised collectively by the clans. Although my parents were Dalish, they did not live among them either.”

“Oh,” the ambassador was surprised. “Where are your parents now?”

“Dead,” There was no emotion on her face as she looked at the woman. “They were killed when I was very young. That’s all I have to say on the matter for now.”

A look of pity formed on the woman’s face, “I apologize for prying, but for what it’s worth I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you.”

Leliana pulled her hands behind her back, “From what Zevran told me, it’s clear that you aren’t exactly welcome among the clans. Is there a particular reason why?”

Idrilla sighed, “I am not, but the only thing I’m willing to tell you is that the reason I  _ left  _ was that we had differing opinions. Anything more than that you don’t have to know.”

“Will this cause an issue with our dalish allies within the Inquisition?” the spymaster asked.

“No, any that are here will most likely avoid me at all cost or they won’t even believe I exist… it’s been almost 25 years since then. That being said I will not actively seek them out. If it comes up and I deem it necessary, I will tell you everything but until then or if I decide that I will be joining this young organization I have nothing more to say on my past.” 

“Of course, Lady Marel.” 

Idrilla cut her eyes at the spymaster for using that name, but still bowed her head to all of them, “I fear I have already taken much of your time. So I will take my leave now. If you need me I will either be with Master Tethras or in the library, until then have a pleasant day.” 

Once out from under the eyes of the advisors and their many questions she heaved out a tired sigh. The way she saw it, her past should stay in the past. She understood that they had dalish allies among them and that if her presence became an issue it could potentially damage everything they had gained from them. But even so, her past was complicated and difficult for most people outside the Dalish to understand. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it though so she slowly made her way towards where Varric would be only to find his chair empty. She noted that he had left some blank paper, ink, and his quill sitting on the table. Quickly, she wrote down a message that read:

“To save you the hassle of having to search for me, I’ll be in the library. - Snarky”

The rotunda was just as beautiful as it was the day before and she was still awestruck by the artwork that covered the walls. She curiously looked around the room to try and get a read on the person that normally inhabited it. Books were stacked sporadically around the room but in a neat and organized fashion. She got the sense that they were typically meticulous, as seen in the murals. However, they were still practical. There didn’t look to be any personal objects lying about meaning he either had none to speak of or he had so few that he could bring them with him anywhere he went. The chair at the desk was pulled out, ready for when he returned. At present, this Solas was a mystery to her. The room did little to tell her much of his underlying personality or any affiliations he might have. 

She left the room behind and made her way up the stairs. Passing by the shelves, she glanced at the many books that lined the wall, looking for something to read to pass the time. One title caught her attention, “The nature of spirits”. She grabbed it and started walking towards her room to grab one of her journals and something to write with. Upon her return, she found an empty seat and tuned out everything else that was going on around her. Hours passed by as she read and scribbled down her notes, comparing her personal experiences with some of the spirits mentioned in the book, which was very few. From what she could tell, the person who had written this had very little experience with spirits, to begin with, and only had a very basic understanding of what each of their virtues meant. The section on demons, however, was much more detailed. Probably because there are far more descriptions of how people have come into contact with them. It irked her to know that very few understood that demons were once spirits who had their original purposes warped thanks to people’s vague understanding of them. If you expect a spirit to be a demon then they will adapt and since the waking world never changes it unsettles them and they will conform to withstand it. 

Once finished she closed both the book and her journal, grabbing the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes tightly. She didn’t notice the man that approached her.

“You look so unapproachable,” He commented.

She looked up to find that it was the man that had been watching her previously then rolled her eyes dramatically.

“ _ And yet, here you are, _ ” she replied in tevene.

His eyes opened wide, “You know I’m from tevinter?” 

“It isn’t hard to figure out. The fashion of your clothes and your accent is enough to tell me that much. The way you style your hair does as well.”

He smirked, “Alright, what else?” he asked curiously.

“You are from a high-class family, probably a part of the magisterium. The essential oils you are wearing for fragrance are strong but not overbearing,” She leaned forward a bit and smelled the air around him. “I can smell bergamot, along with hints of sandalwood and geranium. Those oils are expensive and they also tell me you are unmarried.” 

“How do you know that?” 

She sighed, “The smell is alluring and masculine, but has subtle hints of femininity. Just enough for it to be charming, and to help enhance a clean, natural fragrance. A married man would wear a more muted fragrance, something clean but warm, subtle yet appealing. If you are wondering how I know you are a part of the upper class, it’s because of your hygiene. Clean face, clean teeth, and no dirt and grime from hard labor. Because of that, I assume you are highly educated, probably an Altus.”

The man burst out laughing, “That was brilliant. I like you already,” he settled down. “My name is Dorian Pavus, and you are?” 

“Ah, so you’re ‘Sparkler’,” She chuckled. “You can call me Idrilla.” 

“I see you have been speaking with Varric…” he groaned. 

“I take it you aren’t fond of that nickname… Shall I call you peacock instead,  _ Lord Pavus?”  _

He glared at her playfully and she laughed, “I was only teasing, Dorian. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” 

He rolled his eyes at that, “So, I have to ask, why do you have face tattoos that make you look like a pride demon?” 

“I would prefer not to speak of that as it is not a pleasant topic of conversation. Also, we have only just met. However, they aren’t meant to look like a pride demon... they represent the Dalish depiction of the Dread Wolf, Fen’harel, but I understand why you would think that.” 

Absentmindedly, she traced her fingers over the ink on her forehead and at the moment Varric called out to both of them from the first floor.

“Snarky? Sparkler? You up there?” 

Idrilla leaned over the railing to look at him, “Yes, Varric.”

Dorian followed shortly after, “Was there something you needed?”

“I have everyone in the tavern for a game of Wicked Grace if you still want to meet them. I thought it’d be easier if it were all at once,” he smiled up at the tevinter. “That includes you, Sparkler, even if you two have already met.” 

She looked over at the man, “Would you care to join us? I would enjoy the company.” 

“When you put it like that, how am I able to say no.”

“Vivienne won’t be joining the fun, said she had better things to do than gamble,” Varric remarked as he started walking out of the room.

Idrilla chuckled flatly, “I met the enchanter this morning after being shown to my room. We know each other already and I would prefer to have little to do with her anyway,” she sighed. “Having her as an ally opens up many doors but her reputation is dangerous, as is her influence. Getting on her bad side could ruin all the work I’ve put into making connections throughout Orlaise.” 

“Just how many do you have exactly?” Dorian asked. “From how it sounds, you have quite a few.”

“It’s mostly servants, they pass on information, and even leave windows or doors unlocked in exchange for healing, gold, or even supplies for their families in the allienages. But there are some Nobles and Merchants I have done business for in the past, people who still owe me favors. I haven’t been to Orlaise in some time, however, so I’m sure there will be a plethora of work for me if I decide to return.” 

Dorian was taken aback but didn’t have time to inquire further once they reached the tavern. Idrilla could hear the sound of patrons inside talking and laughing, the sound of a lute being played flitted in between the merriment. No one took notice of them when they entered, which she was fine with. Varric led them to a large table where the rest of their little group waited.

“I brought them, Tiny, deal them in,” Varric greeted the massive qunari.

The man’s eye locked onto her instantly and she could tell he was trying to analyze her but she didn’t let anything slip. Looking at everyone she was able to gather who each of them was just from the nicknames Varric had given them: 

“Seeker” was the woman with short, dark hair. Cassandra Pentaghast, her name was. A member of the Seekers of truth. An honorable enough order, but still a secretive one. She wore a look of annoyance on her face as she looked at the dwarf. 

“Is it truly necessary for me to be here? I could have easily just spoken to her in private,” she looked at Idrilla questioningly.

“Come now, Seeker, don’t be like that. Snarky here just wants to get to know everyone before she decides if she will be joining our little group.”

It was obvious who “Tiny” was considering Varric had pointed him out. The Iron Bull, a qunari with horns similar to that of a dragon and an eyepatch. The leader of a mercenary band, The Chargers, Varric had told her. It was clear he had seen his share of battle: missing fingers, knee brace, and more. He was still watching her with the utmost intensity.

“Well, have a seat and join us. It’ll be a hell of a lot more fun with someone new to play with. It’s boring when you know everyone’s tells,” he smirked.

Lastly was “Warden”, the man with the long dark hair with the beard to match. Blackwall was a so-called Grey Warden, but Idrilla just couldn’t see it. Most wardens, from her experience, had an aura around them that she couldn’t explain. She supposed it could come from the taint in their blood, she wasn’t sure, but he didn’t have it. 

The man smiled, “yeah, join us for a game.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all, you can call me Idrilla,” she bowed politely, keeping her mask in place for now.

She took her seat and conversation flowed smoothly, filled with laughter and smiles as everyone shared stories.

“You’re shitting me?” Bull barked out.

“Not at all,” Idrilla smirked as she took the whole pot again.

Varric and Dorian were laughing hysterically at the qunari’s distress. Cassandra on the other hand was ready to pull out of the game.

“I don’t have enough coin to continue losing,” She commented.

Dorian smirked, “I agree.”

“Same here,” Varric followed.

It was now just her and Bull. 

Idrilla chuckled and stared down the qunari, “Ready to admit defeat, Bull?”

He burst into loud, obnoxious laughter, “Alright, fine,” he dropped his remaining cards and she did the same. “Have to say though, it’s impressive that I wasn’t able to read you at all.”

“Having, as it has been described to me multiple times, a resting bitch face has its perks when it is required,” her smile widened. “Although, I am surprised you couldn’t see through since you’re Ben-hassrath.”

His eye shot wide open, as did Cassandra’s, Blackwall’s, and Varric’s. Dorian on the other hand wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“How-” Bull began but Dorian broke out laughing causing the qunari to glare at him.

He ignored the man and looked at her with eyes full of amusement, “Do that thing where you pick people apart just by looking at them.”

“What do you mean ‘just by looking at them’?” Cassandra questioned.

“I’m not joking,” his mirth was unending. “She told me my birthplace and rank just by looking at me and hearing my voice, then told me my marital status by smell… SMELL I tell you.”

“I’m curious now,” Varric chimed.

Idrilla rolled her eyes, “It isn’t all that impressive-”

“I won’t hear it!” Dorian interrupted. “Let them decide for themselves.”

She looked at the others, they stared at her with anticipation, Bull more so suspiciously.

She sighed, “Sorry Bull, but Cassandra and Varric have too much of a reputation for this to be authentic,” She looked at the warden curiously. He looked like he was tense. “I doubt Blackwall would take kindly to me revealing any secrets he might have since being a Grey Warden means that their past is buried and left behind. That being said, I won’t do this if you aren’t comfortable.”

The qunari’s expression was blank, “Give it your best shot.” he challenged.

“As I said before, You are Ben-Hassrath. You appear to be relaxed at all times, but you are always watching the environment around you. Taking in every bit of information you can. Even though your face looks neutral, there is an edge in your glance that tells me you are ready to act, if need be, at any given moment. Also, you’ve kept your eye on me ever since I walked through the door and have kept your reactions to a minimum, showing only enough to keep yourself from seeming out of place,” the qunari paled slightly. “Then there is the evidence of a life of constant fighting. Scars are littering your body, mostly from spears, arrows, and blades. You’ve seen your fair share of battle which makes you a formidable force.”

She stopped momentarily to observe the man more closely.

“I get the sense that you have lived away from the qun for quite a while or have become tal-vashoth for some reason or another mainly from the fact that you aren’t using a qunari title such as Sten or Karasaad. But taking into account you are or were a part of the Ben-hassrath, I’d say you’re Hissrad.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked defensively.

“You’re a good liar. Our game of Wicked Grace was evidence enough.”

“I… Damn,” was all he could say.

“You also have a very high sex drive…” she said as she watched one of the serving girls pass by, eyes glazed with lust when they glanced at the man. “The way the women working here touch you and speak to you and look at you, including the way you interact with them, tell me you have fucked,  _ at the very least _ , four of them.” 

“Damn, Tiny. She just laid your ass out.” Varric guffawed.

Blackwall and Cassandra stared at her completely dumbfounded, Dorian was laughing again, and Idrilla was sitting there bored of the whole situation.

“I… shit what can I say to that,” Bull started chuckling. “You’re right, but how do you know what my rank was though?”

“Spent some time in Seheron. Gotta say it was a bit of a shit hole with the never-ending fighting between the natives, tevinter, qunari, and the tal-vashoth. Then there was Kirkwall, I’m sure you know about everything that happened there. If I was gonna be able to survive I had to learn a lot about qunari culture. Mostly the ranks for the Antaam and Ben-hassrath to know which ones I needed to avoid at all costs. The qunari’s fear of magic made most of the Tal-vashoth avoid me like the plague because of my staff, although I did have to kill a number of them.”

“How much do you know?” Cassandra inquired.

Idrilla propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm, “My understanding of the language is mediocre at best, so forgive me if the pronunciation is a bit off,” she said, directing her attention to Bull. “For the Antaam, the Qunari military, the Arishok is the supreme commander. The Kathaban is the admiral of their naval forces and the army in Seheron is led by the Kithshok. Infantry commanders are called Karasten. Arvaarad are meant to watch over qunari mages who are called Saarebas. Infantry platoon commanders are referred to as Sten and the people who work under them are called Karashok. The leaders of work camps for prisoners are Bas-taar and the Huntmaster has to track down escaped prisoners. Karasaad are soldiers, Ashaad are scouts, and the Taarbas are meant to retrieve the weapons of those who have died in battle.”

She took a breath and leaned back in her seat, “As for the Ben-hassrath, they are led by the Ariqun, a member of the priesthood. Hissrad are their spies while their assassins are called Tallis. I am unfamiliar with what purposes the Saarbrak and Salit serve, but I know the names regardless. Then finally there is the Viddasala, a high ranking member specializing in finding, studying, and stopping magic who also handles the conversion of foreigners and the reeducation of Qunari dissidents.”

“And you need to know all of this for what exactly?” Blackwall asked.

“As I said before, survival within qunari lands or anywhere they may be. If I weren’t a mage I doubt they would take much notice of me since I’m an elf, but I am so they would either kill me or try to make me Saarebas. Other than that it’s just to satisfy my unquenchable thirst for knowledge.” 

“Why were you in Seheron?” Bull was genuinely curious.

A small smile bloomed on her face, “Curiosity. I have traveled to many different places over the years and Seheron is a mystery to many this side of Thedas. That being said I was well aware of the conflict going on beforehand. I was confident enough in my abilities to take the risk of going there on my own. I wasn’t able to stay for long however, with all the chaos, there wasn’t much room for exploring the area.”

“Sounds about right,” Bull stated. “Can’t take two steps without being attacked by something or someone.”

“I got caught in the middle of a skirmish. Which was fucking hell, by the way, both sides were trying to kill me while also fighting each other.”

“Shit,” Varric began. “You gotta tell what was like at some point. That sounds like the beginnings of a book.” 

“Maybe at a later date,” she answered. “That story isn’t fit for the tavern.”

The dwarf conceded her point and dropped the subject, “So what do you think of the Inquisition so far?” he asked.

“There are a lot of good people here, but I still don’t see how my abilities would be able to benefit anyone. From what I’ve gathered, you don’t require any more healers for the moment and have more than enough connections through Leliana and Josephine. The Spymaster’s network is large enough that my presence would be unnecessary. My being here would just add another mouth to feed,” she looked around the tavern. “Good morale is in abundance. This organization is still young but is growing admirably by the day. There is much it could accomplish where others have failed, but my assistance might not help.”

“What makes you say that?” Blackwall asked.

“There are several people who wish me dead. That could affect the Inquisition’s reputation and it doesn’t have the time or the number of resources it would require to solve that problem. It would be safer if I weren’t here at all. Anything the Inquisition has should be put to use on ending all of this conflict and in assisting those who have been affected by it.” 

They all wore a look of surprise. At first glance, Idrilla appeared to be just another one of the Dalish, not someone on the run from her past. 

“I’m sure Leliana’s people would be able to help,” Cassandra inclined her head. “I doubt it would be an issue. I’m sure any help you could provide for the Inquisition would be worth it, your knowledge seems vast. We among the inner circle would do whatever we could to assist you and to keep you safe.”

“It’s an attractive offer, Lady Seeker... I’ll think about it. I’m not planning on leaving just yet, I’m willing to see just how much this inquisition is capable of.”

After that Bull and Blackwall spent the rest of the day showing her around the keep, introducing her to the healers and the staff, taking her to the stables, the kitchens, and even showing her around the battlements. They spoke to some of the soldiers that were patrolling and Idrilla was impressed by how much loyalty they presented. They were all kind people and she would be lying if she said she wouldn’t enjoy being able to work with others instead of on her own as she had for so many years. Being able to make a difference and provide instead of taking lives. It wasn’t that all she had ever done was kill, she had helped with births, provided for the sick in some of the most remote places in Thedas, taught others the skills to hunt properly, how to make poultices and balms, but it never felt like she was changing much of anything. She was beginning to see the potential in everything around her. People of different races were banding together and cooperating. Learning to work through differences instead of holding onto their prejudices. It was inspiring.

By the end of the day she was exhausted, but still felt it necessary to go see Leliana once more. She passed through the library after dressing in something more comfortable, waving to Dorian who smiled brightly at her attentions and made her way to, what she now referred to as, the raven’s nest.

“Leliana-” 

She stopped in her tracks when she spotted the woman, kneeling in front of the altar, praying. Slowly, she made her way over to listen more closely but still kept a respectful distance.

“Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,” Leliana breathed. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the fade. For there is no darkness, not death either, in the Maker’s light. And nothing that he has wrought shall be lost.”

The woman fell silent and stood, staring down at the statue with a look of guilt and grief. 

Idrilla spoke softly, “I apologize for interrupting, I would have made my presence known but it looked like you needed that moment of peace.”

The spymaster sighed, “It is no bother, but thank you. We seldom have a moment such as this these days.”

“If you need someone to talk to I’m willing to listen. You have a lot on you,” she placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “People in your position sometimes need to let it all out… I would know.” 

She smiled faintly, “I will be fine,” she placed her hand over Idrilla’s in reassurance before turning around. “Was there something you needed?” 

Idrilla stepped back and took a breath, “I have decided that I will stay, but there are some things that need to be taken care of before it is made official,” pulling her hands behind her back she looked the spymaster in the eyes. “Call it a favor for a favor.”

Leliana nodded for her to continue, “The reason I returned to Ferelden was to flee my pursuers. As you can imagine, my line of work comes with a string of enemies behind it. There are a number of them that want me dead and I need your help to find where they are hiding so that I can deal with them. If possible, I would like to resolve matters peacefully, but I won’t hold my breath.” 

“I’m sure you are going to need more information than that so I will get to work on a report for you,” she added. “The threats I am most concerned about are the Antivan Crows and the Carta. The rest of them are petty nobles that will be turned away once it comes to light that I am working with the Inquisition. Any others that come up I can deal with on my own. After this is dealt with, any connections, resources, or knowledge I have is yours to use as you see fit.” 

“I will get to work on this immediately, but for now,” Leliana smiled. “Welcome to the Inquisition.”


	3. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Venhedis fasta vass - tevene curse  
> Festis bei umo canavarum - "You will be the death of me."

Weeks passed and Leliana had done exceptional work in dealing with her enemies. So much so that they were willing to provide whatever they were able as an apology for the trouble they had caused.

The Antivan Crows and the Carta had agreed to drop the issue on the terms that Idrilla kept her distance from their affairs, also the Inquisition, as she was learning, was a force to be feared when it came to their influence. The nobles had withdrawn all contracts on her life and even gave their support to the inquisition. More than likely fearful of the powerful allies she had now acquired. 

As of now, she was spending much of her time with Leliana and Josephine to put her resources to use accordingly: her contacts throughout Ferelden and Orlaise were tasked with feeding them information and spreading news of the Inquisition to those in need of work or refuge. She called in favors to have supplies brought to Skyhold and even gained them a few influential allies. Noble allies were few but they brought in an abundance of resources the Inquisition was lacking. Everything else she had to offer was put to use throughout the keep, treating injuries, translating foreign tomes, hunting, even helping train some of the newer recruits. The Mages within the Inquisition were welcoming, however, the few templars were slow to trust until Cullen stepped in and put them at ease. The nobles no longer tormented her thanks to Josephine, and Idrilla’s knowledge helped extend the spymaster’s reach. 

At present, she was hiding away in her room, playing her violin to soothe her nerves. She was at ease here now, but she was accustomed to being alone so it would take some getting used to when it came to being around these people regularly. According to what the other’s had said the Inquisitor and his party would arrive throughout the night or sometime the next day depending on how close to the keep they were. That made her a bit anxious everything she had learned about the Inquisitor made her anxious. She had learned that he was from clan Lavellan, not born among them, but lived with them from his teen years to his early thirties until he was sent to the conclave. She hoped beyond hope that he wasn’t anyone she knew or at least they didn’t know what happened all those years ago. If that were the case, if she knew them or if they were there, it was going to become tense very quickly. There was honestly no telling how it would turn out. Sighing, she put her violin away, deciding to call it a night. She dressed in her nightclothes and got into bed, doing her best not to think of meeting the Inquisitor and drifted to the fade.

**_____________________**

Some distance away, the Inquisitor and his party climbed the path toward Skyhold. Solas had taken the rear, having quickly had enough of Sera’s presence, Cole staying close to his side.

“How much longer?” Sera complained. “My feet are killin’ me.”

The Inquisitor glanced at her, “We only have a few hours left to go,” he turned back around. “If we keep going we will be able to sleep within the walls of Skyhold dry and warm or would you rather camp out in the snow again? Also, according to Leliana’s report, we have a new guest waiting to meet us.” 

Sera groaned but didn’t say anything more, leaving silence in her wake. And that is how their entire trip back had been, silent, no one speaking a word, patients wearing thin as they traversed the mountain paths. They were all exhausted, their time in Crestwood had been anything but simple and the Inquisitor had insisted on doing everything he could to help the people there which extended their stay. And with the snow growing thicker and deeper the closer they got, they had to forgo riding their mounts to allow them to rest.

Solas let out a quiet sigh, gripping his staff and the reigns of his mount a little tighter as the path changed from twists and turns to a steep incline. Cole flitted around him, fumbling with his fingers as they got closer to Skyhold. Hours felt like days, not that that made much of a difference to the ancient elf, then suddenly Cole stopped. His eyes grew wide.

“What is it, Cole?” Solas asked curiously, slowing his pace, catching the attention of the other two.

“Burning sense of injustice, sobs, sorrow: a desire to fight back, and no time to do so. Stuck between who she is, who she wants to be, and what she should be. ‘Set my life on fire, watch my pain go up in flames, burn as hot as an inferno, I’m going to torch these chains.’ Guilt smothers the rage. Sad yet bright, the song flows from blistered fingertips, gentle wisps of magic… she needs help.” 

Then he disappeared, leaving the rest of them an hour out from their destination.

“Damn demon shite…” Sera muttered.

“Solas,” the Inquisitor called out to him. “What was Cole talking about?”

“I believe we shall see once we reach Skyhold, for now, let us continue before the cold takes us.” 

When they finally reached the gates of the fortress everything was quiet, excluding the small gathering of soldiers that welcomed them back. It was late, soon to become morning, so everyone was asleep. Solas parted ways with Sera and the Inquisitor, making his way to his quarters to get some much-needed rest. Luckily his room was in a more secluded part of the fortress so he didn’t have to put much effort into keeping quiet as he traversed the halls. When it came into view he let out a breath of relief and stepped inside. He put his belongings away and stripped himself of his soiled clothes. His tunic was littered with stains, blood and dirt created dark spots and large holes made it impossible to repair. His trousers were exchanged for new ones after he rid himself of his leg wraps. He sat on the side of his bed and rubbed his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose, ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. However, an age-old habit forced him to look over the reports his agents had left for him before he slept. He rose from his seat and made his way over to his desk, lighting a single candle and set to work. 

They were all normal: detailed accounts of Leliana’s movements and the few changes that had occurred while he was gone, but he noticed there were more than there should have been. He had given his people strict instructions of when they were to leave coded messages and there was never to be more than one per week otherwise they risked being discovered. They grew more and more confusing as he continued reading. Each of them spoke of a woman that had arrived not even three weeks prior and that her presence had startled them as she had begun to grow closer with the advisors and the inner circle. A report, made the day before his return, by his most trusted agent stuck out:

_ “The woman has Vallaslin the likes of which I have never seen. She has brought in a lot of resources, supplies, and supporters alike, as of late which is remarkable given she appeared out of nowhere. I believe she has caught on that we have been watching her, but we aren’t sure. She hasn’t made a move to confront us or report us to Nightingale, but she disappears as if she is aware. The Dalish here avoid her like the plague itself as well, which made her stick out to us. We don’t know if she is a threat or not, but I’ve pulled most of the others back for now. Hopefully, you will be able to put our minds at ease.” _

Many different possibilities raced through his mind as to who this woman could be, but he had little energy to worry about it at the moment. He gathered the papers and walked to the fireplace. He ignited it with a flick of his wrist and tossed the papers inside, watching until they all burned into nothing. He decided he would look into this new arrival later, but for now, he needed sleep. He crossed the room in two long strides then plopped down on his bed with a quiet sigh. Not bothering to cover himself he fell into dreamless darkness.

**_____________________**

Idrilla woke with a jolt, her head pounding. She vaguely remembered a boy with blonde hair waking her from her nightmare but not much else before she passed out again. Clutching her brow, she swung her legs over the bed, head hanging low causing her hair to fall around her. She stretched, her joints letting out a satisfying pop as she stood before dressing herself. She surmised it was to be a warmer day from the look of the sky she got as she passed up under the hole in her roof so she prompted for one of her looser tops: a shirt similar to the one she had arrived in that left her arms and back exposed but didn’t hug her figure as tightly, allowing for more movement with her leggings and leg wraps. She twisted hair into a bun and turned to leave. 

As she made her way through the keep she noticed that it was busier than before, more servants were rushing about, along with the soldiers and scouts. Idrilla made a point of avoiding any of her new companions, opting to keep herself busy with work to clear her head. Having to save face in front of them would be a hassle she wasn’t in any particular mood to deal with. So she decided to sneak out through the kitchens, disappearing in and out of small crowds of people until she made it to the underbelly of the keep. Luckily there was no one there so she went unnoticed. Once outside she noted that none of the stables hands were out working meaning it was unlikely Dennet was up either. She sighed and settled with helping the healers for the time being but there was little for her to do so she left to walk the battlements to distract herself. However, it seemed it would be difficult to achieve when she saw an elvhen man tailing her through the courtyard. 

Idrilla played it off as if she didn’t notice him and led him up to a section of the battlements that hadn’t been repaired, where she knew people rarely visited. Once there were no soldiers in sight she stopped and turned, causing the man to freeze, and hide behind some rubble.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, “There is no point in trying to conceal your presence. I knew you were following me the entire time. Come on out so that we may speak.” 

Doing as she asked he stepped forward, keeping a safe distance between them. She took a good look at him: he had no vallaslin meaning he was probably from one of the allienages, in his late twenties or early thirties.

“What’s your name?”

The man stayed silent but flinched at her question.

“Why are you following me?”

Silence.

“There must be a reason why you have been watching me. You aren’t the only one I have noticed either. Several different elvhen servants have been doing as you have, but you are the first one I have confronted,” she added. “You aren’t Dalish so there would be no reason for you to know of me and you aren’t an enemy of mine or the Inquisition, for that matter, considering I have seen you busting your ass around here. I’m not going to report you to the spymaster so you and your friends don’t have anything to worry about. So I’ll ask again, why were you following me?”

Once again the boy stayed silent making her sigh, “Very well, if that’s how it is then so be it. I won’t push you, but it’s obvious you are under strict orders to keep quiet. Just tell whoever sent you that if they wish to speak to me then they need to do it themselves, and face to face. I do not care for games of cat and mouse unless it is necessary.”

The boy turned sharply, ready to flee, but she stopped him.

“Before you go, I must tell you that you need more practice shadowing people. You knew nothing about your target before any of you started following me. If you want to learn... I’m willing to help.”

He stopped and turned to look at her skeptically, speaking for the first time, “Why are you offering something like that?”

Idrilla gave him a sly smile, “You aren’t an enemy spy waiting to strike. If you were, you would have done something long before now and you would have done a better job in keeping your existence hidden,” she relaxed her posture and placed a hand on her hip. “Also, I was in your shoes at a point in my life so I know how detrimental it would be if you were caught. You were lucky you were tasked with spying on me, someone else might not be as understanding. Now run along before you are missed.” 

He took off like a bolt of lightning, leaving her to her thoughts. Her day was not going as she had planned. It seemed that everything in recent memory, even before she came to the Inquisition, was poking fun at her. Pushing her to break. 

Idrilla leaned against one of the crenels, staring out at the never-ending distance that accompanied the mountains that surrounded her. This place had been a marvel to her when she first discovered it. She remembered the feelings that had coursed through her as she passed through the front gates for the first time: curiosity, excitement, awe, and sadness, all in equal measure. The old castle stood on a rugged slope, moonlit snowdrifts piled against half-ruined walls, the windows dark and gaping. Its battlements glistened with ice in the crystal cold air, their ragged outlines blending into the rocks behind. It looked lonely, abandoned to the elements, but had endured the riggers of time. Much like herself. Alone and yearning, but surviving. 

If this fortress of stone, built on blood and bone, could talk, she’d beg for deafness. She could hear the whispers of the ages, tales of lives lost, and deaths of agony no-one should ever feel, they remained cloistered in the castle dungeons and echoed around staircases of twisted rock. So much to say and no ears willing to hear, no soul willing to feel the torment that lied within. She was different. She hadn’t turned her head to the breeze and stood on flora barely weeks old when she found it. The past was a forbidden land and its people's trials were over, but she traversed those memories without fear or doubt. To learn all that she could and leave it with a sense of comradery… understanding. She knew in the future, when time had mastered this place, humbled it to no more than pebble and crumb, that she too would be in that hour-glass that is now. Until then, it was silence she wished to soak in, even now. 

She gazed at the sky and took a deep breath. A familiar, faint cry came from above causing her to smile. Her eyes searched for the creature until they landed on the large bird that had swooped in and perched on one of the merlons. His dark brown wings spread out then fluttered back into place at his side. The golden feathers on his back glowed in the sunlight.

She reached her hand out, allowing him to rub his head against her palm, “I was wondering when you would find me.”

He cocked his head to the side, his dark eyes gleaming with intelligence and understanding.

“He missed you,” A quiet voice resonated from behind her, making her turn and look at who had approached her.

A young human boy with shaggy blond hair wearing a hat that obscured his face. She watched as he fumbled with his fingers, staring down at his feet as if he were trying to figure out what to say. He looked familiar.

“I’m Cole…” he whispered.

The realization hit her: he was the boy from the night before.

“I tried to help but it didn’t work… old, stinging pain, caused by betrayal. ‘The nightmares always come back. Leaving me breathless as the hunters chase me deeper into the trees. The river roars as I break free from the bindings. I jumped, the water dragging me deeper into darkness. Someone, please make this pain end.’ I wanted to make it stop but I only woke you… I’m sorry.”

“So this is the spirit the dwarf had spoken of,” she thought. “He is different than what I had imagined. Varric didn’t mention what type of spirit he was but he undeniably embodies Compassion.”

She smiled at him, “I thank you for your attempt, Cole. You have done more than most and I am truly grateful. You were able to give me a moment's peace by taking the dreams away. I was able to rest comfortably.”

Cole smiled with relief and turned his attention back to the bird. It was watching him with the same intensity. 

Idrilla looked between them, “Do you want to pet him?” she asked.

His eyes widened with child-like wonder, “Can I?”

She nodded and held her hand out to him. He timidly placed his hand in hers and she guided him toward the bird. It watched them warily.

“Now hold your hand up… Yes, just like that, and wait for him to respond. Don’t rush otherwise you might spook him.”

She watched as the bird turned his head in different directions, watching Cole for any sudden movements, then leaned forward and placed his head against the boy's palm. Cole’s breath hitched then he slowly began stroking the bird's neck.

She chuckled, “He likes you,” she gave Cole a kind smile when he looked over at her. “His name is Irosylis.”

They spent the next few minutes giving the large predator affection before it decided it had had enough and took back to the skies.

“He will be back,” Cole said. “He doesn’t like leaving your side for long.”

Idrilla smiled, “I know,” she glanced at the sun's place in the sky and decided it was time to head inside. “I’m going to the library. Do you want to come along? I have enjoyed your company.”

The boy gave her a huge smile and nodded vigorously. So they went, making their way through the kitchens once more and up through the main hall. The rotunda was empty when they entered. Cole spoke to her fervently, happy to have another person who had accepted him without question. She silenced the boy and smiled at him when she noticed Dorian, his mind lost in a book. Holding a finger to her lips, she gave Cole the silent cue to keep quiet.

She silently crept up behind the tevinter, leaning over his shoulder with her arms pulled behind her back, stilling her breath. Dorian didn’t take any notice of her which made her smirk.

She spoke, “Read anything interesting?”

The shriek the vint let out was priceless. He jumped so hard that the book he had been holding was sent flying up into the air as he left his chair, clutching his chest.

“Venhedis fasta vass!” 

Idrilla laughed, “Is there a problem, Dorian?”

She bent down, retrieving the book, and handed it back to him. He snatched it from her.

He caught his breath and glared at her, “Why in the Maker’s name do you keep doing that?”

“I have to keep you on your toes somehow. Being cooped up in the library all day isn’t good for your health.”

He huffed, “Festis bei umo canavarum.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Once he had calmed down the man spoke once more, “How were you able to sneak up on me anyway?’

“Assassin training.”

“You’re an assassin?!” Dorian exclaimed.

Idrilla rolled her eyes, “We’ve been friends for literally two weeks. Why are you so surprised?”

“I just thought I’d have a normal friend for once.”

“What do you mean ‘for once’?”

“Heart thundering in my chest, but still I smile. The excitement is welcome.” 

Dorian’s head turned toward the new voice’s source and smiled wryly, “Ah, Cole, thank you,” he looked back at Idrilla. “It seems you have met our spirit companion and he made a new friend in the process.”

Cole nodded, “She is nice. Warm, welcoming, like the sun but soothing like an autumn wind. I like her. Irosylis does too.”

“Irosylis?” the vint’s brow rose in confusion. 

Before she could answer Cole continued, “Her friend. She let me pet him. Strong wings never faltering, soaring and watching as the sky passes from above. Ready to call out when danger approaches.”

“Please tell me he isn’t talking about a dragon?” Dorian asked with exasperation. “Bull would never shut up about it.”

She chuckled, “No, he isn’t.” 

Her answer was final, stopping any of the man's intentions of inquiring further.

Idrilla spent the rest of her day with Dorian while also reading to Cole. 

“You would like Solas,” Cole said once she had finished. “He likes spirits too. He’s nice.”

“Then I can’t wait to meet him since you think so highly of him,” she replied as she put the book away.

As if on cue, the door to the rotunda opened with a quiet creak of its hinges. An elvhen man entered the room sketching on a piece of parchment as he moved around without looking up. Idrilla took in his appearance as he began gathering jars from the drawers of his desk and some paintbrushes. His clothing was practical, simple but thick enough to shield him from the cold. There were no shoes on his feet, just traditional leg wraps. Around his neck was a pendant, a jawbone of some kind. His head was shaved clean, what little she could see of his face showed high cheekbones and a chiseled jawline. He was tall with broad shoulders, and his thighs were toned beautifully. Overall he was an attractive man physically. Mentally was still up for debate.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Dorian and Cole watching her.

“What is she thinking?” Dorian whispered to the boy.

Cole cocked his head to the side, “She finds him physically attractive.” he said without bothering to lower his voice.

She went rigid and jerked her head back to look at the tevinter who was leaning on his chair, covering his mouth in an attempt to keep from laughing.

She jabbed her finger at him as blood rushed to her cheeks, “Not a word, Dorian.”

She then turned towards the stairs, “Where are you going?” Cole asked.

“I’m going to introduce myself since I will be working with him.”

“Now this I have to watch,” Dorian’s voice was full of amusement.

She ignored him and made her way down, quietly as to not disturb the man. When she reached the bottom, she saw that he had begun sketching a new addition to the wall. She watched him for a moment. Steady, practiced hands moved across the plastered as the image began to emerge. When his hand relaxed back at his side she stepped forward.

“I must say,” she began. “These murals are beautiful.”

**_____________________**

Solas turned at the sound of a woman’s voice, “Thank you-”

The words died on his tongue when he saw her face and his blood turned to ice in his veins. 

Blood red vallaslin stared back at him that looked to represent… him: Six eyes marred her forehead, along with the designs that elongated her green eyes, and finally the sharp lines on her chin. The tattoos didn’t end there either, changing from red to black they extended down her neck, along her arms to her fingernails. His eyes shot back up to her face. Her hair was dreaded: wooden and metal beads along with colorful strings adorned many of them. He caught sight of her ears when she turned to look at the wall, they were decorated with jewelry: some were connected by small chains, others stood alone. 

No words were able to escape as his brain ran rampant with emotion: confusion, rage, sadness. He wasn’t able to look away from the lines of ink that made his stomach churn.

She noticed. A strained chuckle left her lips, “That bewildered expression says you are looking at my vallaslin,” her finger lightly traced the ink on her face. “That’s nothing new, most people react that way.”

Solas saw the clouded look in her eyes and did his best to right himself, “I apologize, that was rude of me,” his tone distant. “I was just surprised. I have never seen vallaslin such as yours before… which God do they represent?”

He knew the answer, he just needed her to confirm his suspicion.

“Fen’harel…” her voice was monotonous and empty.

He sucked in a silent breath. He was trying to be civil and not make any assumptions. His time getting to know the Inquisitor had taught him that not all of the Dalish were close-minded fools. He was giving her the benefit of doubt.

“They were not of my choosing if that is what you are wondering,” she added. “If I had had a choice I wouldn’t have any vallaslin to speak of, but sadly that isn’t the case. Everything from the neck down, however, was my choice.”

It was becoming apparent to him what she meant, but before he could inquire further she changed the subject.

“However, I didn’t come here to speak of that. I came to introduce myself. My name is Idrilla, and you must be Solas. I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

He inclined his head as acknowledgment.

She smiled, “I have some questions about your murals if you would indulge me.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Where did you learn to paint like this? I have come across others such as these in elvhen ruins in my wanderings but could never find anyone with any knowledge of them.”

No one had ever asked him that before, not even the Inquisitor who had a never-ending string of questions about elvhen history and his journeys in the fade. He hadn’t heard of any Dalish frequently searching for ruins either.

“The fade,” he answered, mentally rolling his eyes at his overuse of that phrase as an excuse. It honestly astonished him that so many took that as an answer without question. “There are many spirits who are willing to share what they know.”

She looked at him skeptically, “That can’t be the only way you learned of them. Spirits have taught me countless things, from languages, magic, and how to play instruments. Even then it took countless years of searching and practice to master them. So there must be more to it than that.”

His eyes widened then he chuckled wryly, “True, I had to search countless ruins to watch the memories of the artists.”

The door to the rotunda opened making them both glance in its direction.

He saw Idrilla freeze, a look of sadness set in her eyes while the rest of her expression stayed completely neutral.

“Inquisitor,” Solas greeted. “What can I do for you?”

**_____________________**

Idrilla looked toward the door and her heart stopped. The memory of a little boy trailing behind her, hand clasped around hers, flooded her mind. A look of wonder plastered on his face as she talked about her dreams and showed him her magic. Sadness and guilt were all she could feel as she watched the now grown man enter the room.

“Solas, I was wondering if you could-”

He went silent when his eyes landed on her. They stared at each other and Idrilla looked him up and down.

He had grown into a fine young man, strong and healthy. Golden eyes widened in shock, the branches of Mythal’s vallaslin dusted his cheeks in blue ink, a color he had always favored. It stood out against his caramel toned skin.

“Nanin…” his name left her lips without permission.

“Idri-” he hesitated, breath catching in his throat.

She watched as he clenched his fists at his side, head hung low, his dark brown hair shielding his face.

He laughed dryly, “This has to be a joke… Now you show up? How ironic.”

There were no words she could think of to say. Cole appeared in between them, his eyes landing on the Inquisitor.

“So that's it…” Nanin choked out. “You have nothing to say to me after all this time… after leaving… after abandoning the clans.” 

Her head snapped toward him, doing everything in her power to keep calm, “I didn’t  _ abandon  _ anyone,” she took a deep breath. “I don’t know if that is what your father told you but it isn’t true.”

The Inquisitor’s voice grew louder, “You left me behind! You didn’t even say goodbye! The clans started calling you a traitor and saying all these awful things about you! That you had been lured by Fen’harel and marked with his vallaslin!”

Idrilla huffed, “Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”

“Now you’re lecturing me!”

“If you are insistent on acting like a child, you will be treated like one,” she gestured to their surroundings. People looked on from above with shocked expressions. “This is hardly the time or place to be having this conversation.”

“I don’t care about that right now!” Tears were filling his eyes.

Cole’s voice was quiet, “ _ Where is Asa’ma’lin? Why won’t anyone tell me? Father says she left. That she abandoned me and everyone else… that she didn’t want us. That isn’t true… she wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. She always tells me goodbye when she has to leave… Idrilla please come back _ .”

Nanin sucked in a sharp breath and bolted from the room.

Idrilla let out a tired huff, her shoulders slumped, “He has never lived up to his namesake.”

“What do you mean?” Solas asked.

“He has always been an emotional child, sensitive to almost everything, too kind to be vengeful toward anyone. I’m happy that he has grown up safe and healthy. I had hoped…” she sighed. “It doesn’t matter any longer. Ir abelas, Solas, I hadn’t intended for this to happen. Let alone in your workspace.”

The man nodded wordlessly and she turned her attention to the spirit who was now hovering around her.

“Cole… please help him if you can.”

He nodded and disappeared.

She looked up at the bystanders, “All of you, get back to work, this doesn’t concern you,” They all scattered at her firm tone and her eyes traveled to the rookery where she met Leliana’s gaze. “Spymaster, I would appreciate it if you would gather everyone in the war room so I can clear this up. That includes Vivienne, this isn’t up for debate. The Inquisitor can choose whether or not he wishes to attend. Until then, I will wait in my room.” 

Varric came through the door, his voice flooded with concern, “What’s going on, Chuckles?” he saw Idrilla. “Snarky?”

She turned to leave, a silent tear fell down her cheek as she replied. 

“Nothing, Varric. Just the results of a life filled with pain... and regrets.”


	4. Blood Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song Idrilla plays is Artemis by Lindsey Stirling. Here is a link to the video (>^-^)>
> 
> https://youtu.be/8Khq_xhtOTA

The past was never where she thought she had left it. It was so hard to forget the pain, but it’s even harder now to remember sweetness. Idrilla had numbed herself thoroughly to the guilt of leaving Nanin the way she had, so much so that it hurt more now that she was faced with the reality that no matter how far she ran from that awful event in her life it would always find her in some way or another. She felt like crying but nothing came out. It was a sort of sad sickness... when she couldn’t feel any worse. She thought she knew it well. She thought everyone knew it now and then. But she believed she had known it often, too often. 

Minutes felt like hours as she sat on the side of her bed, her things already packed, ready for her if she had to leave Skyhold behind once again. Then the dreaded knock came. She quickly put her mask into place, a practice she had perfected long ago and opened the door. Surprisingly, it was Solas who stood on the other side. Cole lurked behind him, his head hung low, fingers gripping the cuffs of his sleeves. She brushed past them without saying a word. Somehow she knew Solas could see it. The anguish, the frustration. The terrible nothing that clawed inside and sought to smother her hiding behind her clouded eyes. She knew that he knew she had been broken. 

Emptiness set itself upon her features as soon as they reached the main hall: her face blank, spine straight as an arrow. Nobles and servants rushed to move out of her way, her aura giving off nothing but ice. She saw Jonah standing by Josephine’s office and felt like crumbling to the floor. Her emotions ate at her as he opened the door and she walked past him, but she ignored it. Pushed it as far as she could to the back of her mind as they crossed the threshold of the war room’s entryway. Two soldiers were stationed outside the door. They stood at attention when they saw the long strides she was taking and hurriedly opened the massive wooden structures once she reached them. 

Everyone stood in attendance as she had requested, even the Inquisitor who stood in between his advisors. She locked eyes with him as she stepped inside. Solas and Cole departed from her to stand over with the others. The tension in the air was palpable. They all waited for an explanation.

She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. She had never told anyone everything that had happened and took it as a sign that it was time someone knew of the pain she had endured even if they forced her to leave. 

“Bloomingtide, 9:17 Dragon. Five of the Dalish clans located in Ferelden gathered for the annual meeting of the Keepers, Arlathvhen,” she began. Her voice was monotonous… distant as she began to recount that night. “I was sixteen. The clans were camped apart from one another, at the edge of the Brecellian forest, as to not draw attention from any human settlements in the area. A number of the hunters from each clan were brought to the meeting place as protection… I was among them.”

She looked around the room, “I was an isolated child and didn’t have many friends among my people except for Nanin who was no older than ten, at the time. So I kept to myself and waited for the right time to approach the Keepers.”

“Why?” Dorian asked.

“I believed the Dalish had spent too much time trying to reclaim a lost empire instead of moving forward and learning from the mistakes of a dead civilization. I thought that my people were enslaving themselves to a history of loss. I hold to that even now.”

She sighed, “When that time came, I was guided to them and they listened until I began telling them about what spirits had shown me. That I did not believe in the elvhen gods as they did, that their beliefs were weakening the Dalish and that not all of their knowledge of our legends could ever be entirely true. Keeper Nerien, Nanin’s father, was enraged. He had never cared for me and believed I was corrupting his son with my presence since I spent most of my time by the Fen’Harel statues at the edge of the camp. Because of that, everyone kept the other children away as if they were afraid of me.”

“That’s not true!” Nanin blurted out. 

Her head snapped toward him, “I was quiet, not blind. You _know_ how they treated me, how they looked at me and spoke to me. As if I were only a tool to be used. Only acknowledging my existence when they needed me. You were the only person who treated me with true kindness. Your father made everyone believe that I was something to be feared. He even tried to keep you away from me. How many times did I save you from the lashings? Taking the beatings myself. How many times did I make him believe it was I who approached you instead of the other way around just to protect you from his wrath?”

His eyes widened, then he looked away from her. There was nothing but the truth in the words she spoke so he silenced himself by biting his lip. His hands gripped the edge of the table in front of him.

She continued where she left off, “Keeper Nerien had me restrained after that. He started raving about how I was blasphemous, that it could only be the work of Fen’harel himself that had turned me away from their beliefs,” she huffed indignantly and rolled her eyes. “As if a so-called ‘god’ wouldn’t have anything better to do than torment people’s dreams. ‘Nipping at their heels and devouring spirits’. I fought against the hunters as I was dragged to a tent. They pinned me down and Nerien branded me with these.”

Her hand touched her face, “I passed out. When I woke up, night had already fallen and more of the hunters had gathered. I was brought out in front of them and Nerien was prepared to administer the use of Fen’Harel’s teeth. For those of you who don’t know... it is a savage game, rarely practiced, that is normally reserved for human prisoners. My hands were bound from behind and I was forced into a pair of hard leather leggings, nails driven through them into my flesh. I still have scars to prove it,” she laughed. “It’s amusing in a twisted way. They demanded repentance by using a method of torture that represented the elvhen god of rebellion, the same god they feared; the trickster that locked the other gods away and claimed had possessed me as if he wouldn’t retaliate against it if he truly existed. If Fen’Harel had been the reason behind my claims then I doubt he would have taken kindly to the clans harming me.”

Nanin had gone rigid, tears were gathering in his eyes once more when he looked at her, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Keeper Marethari and Keeper Deshanna were the only ones that tried to defend me before any of this happened. Zathrian didn’t try to stop him even though he hadn’t agreed to it. Keeper Seldras sided with Nerien. So I was sent running into the forest and the hunters gave chase, armed to hunt me down like prey, forcing me to flee from the only home and people I had ever known.”

A few gasps resonated through the room.

“How did you escape?” Cassandra asked. Her face held nothing but disgust.

“I jumped into a river and let it drag me away. I was lucky I didn’t drown since I was already weak from blood loss. I hid in a ruined shrine for weeks while they searched for me before they decided that I was dead and they left.”

They were all silent, grim expressions were all they could give as a response.

“You didn’t retaliate?” Solas asked, his face and voice appeared calm. What she couldn’t see was how tight his fists were behind his back, the rage that surged through him.

“I have…” Idrilla’s teeth gleamed in the light. “I have been forced to do many, many things. Depraved, despicable things. Yet nothing made me feel as filthy, as weak and helpless, as I did that day. Running away after everything that man did to me. I tracked the clans down, having vowed to myself that I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of believing they had killed me, to show each of them that I was alive. When I found Keeper Nerien, I saw him beating Nanin. I was angry, enraged. I waited till night fell and snuck into the camp. As soon as I found the Keeper I put a blade to his throat and threatened him. I told him that tormenting and harming me was one thing, but if he _ever_ put his hands on the boy again that I would come and kill him myself. I stalked the clan for months after, watching and waiting. Nerien knew and he eventually sent Nanin away. I approached him one last time and warned him to stay away from my territory and left. My goal had been accomplished and I had no reason to remain.”

“Fear clouds the man's face as I stalk my way towards him,” Cole muttered. “The words left my mouth without thought, ‘If you are scared of the wolves stay out of the forest’. Nanin is safe now, even if I can never see him again, he won’t be hurt again. He is better without me-” 

He gasped, “Where did it go?”

She looked at him sadly, “I apologize, Cole, but there are some things that cannot be mended. Some hurts that run too deep. Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts. Others need your help more than I.”

“Weren’t you frightened?” Blackwall was quiet. “Only being sixteen and on your own with nowhere to go… no one to turn to…”

“Of course I was afraid. Anyone in their right mind would be. But my will to live was stronger than the fear.”

Idrilla pulled her arms behind her back, “Needless to say, I am no longer welcome among my people. They see me as a monster, call me Harellan… a traitor now wrote into their legends. They sing songs and tell tales of me to scare children into behaving. Many do not believe I truly exist, and those who do flee at the sight of me. People often prefer delusion to truth. It soothes. It is easy to understand. Above all, it fits more snugly than the truth into a world of false appearances - of complex and irrational phenomena, defectively grasped. I believe my people crafted legends to better understand a world that often makes little sense. And legends become their own truth in time.”

A tired breath escaped her lips. She was exhausted from constantly having to explain, of being on the run from everything, even herself. She was sure they could see it.

“There is no greater power in this world than a story,” She added, “People think boundaries and borders build empires, civilizations, a people. Nonsense,” she lifted her eyes to the window. Rays of light spilled through, highlighting her surroundings in muted colors. “Beliefs, declarations, constitutions - Words. Stories. Myths. Lies. Promises… History. The Dalish have mastered using them as weapons... as shields from their reality. To justify their actions no matter the consequences.”

Someone started snickering, “Just another reason the Dalish are arseholes,” they burst out laughing. “Stupid elvhen glory shite is stupid.”

Multiple heads snapped in the voices' direction, she followed their gaze. An elvhen woman was doubled over, clutching her stomach as giggles tumbled out of her.

“Sera-!” Solas had begun to lecture the girl but Idrilla silenced him with a wave of her hand.

“It’s alright,” she looked the girl over. “She’d have to be far more interesting for her opinion to be offensive.”

Sera snapped her head up ready to make a retort but Nanin’s weak voice shut her up, “They never told me…”

“Of course not,” Idrilla stated exasperatedly. “Why would they? You were a child and naive to everything going on around you. They all knew how attached you were to me and couldn’t risk having you turn your back on them so they kept silent. Your father couldn’t have you see him as a monster even if he weren’t aware you already did.”

“Keeper Deshanna wouldn’t have kept this from me... she wouldn’t lie to me.”

She looked at him sadly, “Good people do all the things bad people do, Inquisitor. It’s just when they do them, they call it justice… or mercy. She could have very well believed she was protecting you, but alas, people lie best when they lie to themselves.”

“Why didn’t you come to see me? Why did you allow me to believe all the lies?” he demanded.

“You must allow yourself to outgrow and depart certain eras in your life with a gentle sort of ruthlessness and you can’t heal your wounds by spreading them to others. That’s like breaking a mirror to see your reflection. Before then, I hadn’t realized how fragile happiness was, how if you were careless, you could knock it over and shatter it… It was best if I kept my distance and let you forget. Your father had put you through enough already and I didn't want to cause you any more pain. I couldn’t bear the thought of the people doing to you what they did to me. ”

She looked around the room once more, gazing into the eyes of everyone there, “I have already sworn myself to this cause and I will not abandon it because of my past. I am leaving the decision to all of you because I have already made mine; I will not run away again.” 

She bowed her head and left.

**_____________________**

Everything Solas had heard sickened him. The Dalish had ostracized, broken, and branded her. Tortured her in his name not even hours after accusing her of being ensnared by him. They chased her from her home and called her a traitor. Everything within him burned with rage, but he kept his expression passive.

“Should we leave her alone after that?” Varric asked.

Vivienne was as composed as ever, “She will be fine, dear. She has spent many years entertaining the Nobility in Orlaise so she’s sure to have a strong grip on her emotions.”

“I happen to agree,” Leliana added. “She has been nothing but competent since arriving here.”

“So, Boss,” Bull spoke for the first time. “Do _you_ believe her?”

The Inquisitor was still staring down at the war table, “I have never known her to be a liar.”

“She wants to stay,” Cole muttered looking at the Inquisitor. “There is a home among these strangers, warm and welcoming. She was like you. Alone for so long, lost and wandering. She has never lied to you. She can help... I want her to stay.”

“I agree,” Cullen inclined his head. “She has done much these last few weeks.”

“It is truly remarkable,” Josephine nodded.

Blackwall stepped forward, “I say she stays.”

“As do I,” Cassandra concurred. “We should give her a chance.”

Nanin looked at the rest of them. Dorian and Varric nodded, already having biased opinions on the matter since becoming friends with the woman so quickly. When his eyes reached Sera she scowled.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t know her for manners. Her stayin’ or leavin’ is your choice.”

Finally, he looked at Solas, “Do you believe she was telling the truth?”

"I do," he admitted. "It would be difficult to lie about an event such as that, especially after having experienced it first hand. The emptiness in her voice as she recounted it was enough to express the pain she must have felt."

"You saw it too?" Bull asked.

Solas nodded, "Even those proficient in obscuring their emotions have a hard time hiding a pain such as hers. It is something that travels with them no matter how far they distance themselves or how much they wish to forget and let go."

He would know. He knew the pain she felt well. The sadness and sickening emptiness of having everything turn against you. To be cast out and treated like a monster even though all you wanted was to help.

"And you, Bull? With your training as a Ben-Hassrath, what is your opinion on the matter?" Solas asked. 

"She has been upfront about everything so far. And her skills as a spy would come in handy, she's better than me and that's saying something. I don't think making her leave would do the Inquisition any favors."

"Then we are all in agreement," Leliana looked at Nanin with an expectant gaze. "The final decision is yours, Inquisitor."

Nanin finally stood upright, having regained some control of his emotions, "She will stay for now. I wish to have what she said confirmed before doing anything else. We will need to take a trip to the Exalted Plains to speak with Keeper Hawen. It will take far too long to send a letter to Keeper Deshanna and receive a response."

"So you don't believe her," Bull commented.

"Idrilla told me many years ago that the Dalish put too much faith into our stories. That we suffer from the delusion that the entire course of our history is held in order of thought, fearing that if we do not hold onto them with the utmost tenacity, everything will vanish into nothing. She said that if I were to seek the truth it was necessary that I, at least once in my life, doubt, as far as possible, all things. But at the same time to maintain a balance between skepticism and faith. Be open to possibility. To not give in to skepticism, but not legend either," he sighed. "Her words have never led me astray before. Let’s hope they don’t do so now."

“I’ll go with you,” The qunari affirmed. “We have to be sure they are telling the truth.”

“I’ll go as well,” Cassandra offered.

Nanin looked at them gratefully.

“I hope you aren’t planning to leave me behind again, Amatus,” Dorian smirked.

Nanin smiled weakly, “I know you don’t like the Exalted Plains, Dorian. You don’t have to go. I’ll be fine.”

“I won’t take no as an answer,” he retorted. “A lot has just been put on your shoulders, I couldn’t abandon you now. Also, though I have only known her a short while, I count her as one of my friends.” 

“On your word, Inquisitor,” Cullen said.

Nanin stood tall, “We leave in the morning. The sooner we have this settled the better. You three,” he looked at his party. “Go and prepare for the journey. Leliana, have some of your people keep an eye on Idrilla. Josephine, if you can put the nobility at ease I would greatly appreciate it. And Cullen, make sure Skyhold doesn’t fall apart while we are away.”

He looked at Cole, “Do you know where she went?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “The battlements… the wind carries the song farther there.”

“I’ll go inform her of the situation,” Solas volunteered and left the others to their own devices.

The anger in him only burned hotter as he stalked his way through the keep. It was straining to keep it at bay. He passed through the rotunda then out to the walk-way to Cullen’s office and quarters.

The cold mountain air bit at his skin but did not deter him. Wolves could be heard howling in the distance, the wind whistled past him as he followed the familiar paths. He found her alone watching the sky, her hair had been let down, her hands holding two objects he couldn’t discern. He watched as her eyes closed. Calm concentration took hold of her body's movements. 

Then a sound he hadn’t heard in centuries met his ears. It was clear and low, growing in strength as it reached a higher pitch. It conveyed a sense of sadness that shot through his whole being. The tempo quickened, the sound reaching higher and dropping once more. 

The sensation that struck him was like falling then like he was flying. 

He listened to the song rise and fall, her body moving along with the music. It slowed, the sad tone returned but this time with a sense of forbearance, then sped up once again. It reached its climax and came to a sharp end. It told a story of survival, of someone at their lowest rising from the ashes, finally breaking free and declaring that their journey was far from over.

Solas watched Idrilla lower her arms, her muscles relaxing and her breathing slowed. When she opened her eyes they were clearer, sharper, more focused than they had been earlier as she gazed out into the distance, watching the sunset upon the horizon. 

He decided it was time to make his presence known. 

“You play beautifully.”

Her eyes found his, “Thank you.”

“Where did you learn?” he asked and stood next to her, keeping a respectful distance.

“Spirits.” 

Her answer was expected but not an unwelcome one. 

He gestured to her violin, “May I?”

“Of course,” She handed it to him carefully.

He inspected its appearance: it was perfectly symmetrical, the neck was positioned flawlessly straight, and the joints and seams were tight, without any visible gaps. The scroll was intricately designed. At closer inspection, he noticed more delicate designs that covered the instrument entirely. He applied slight pressure to the top and sides, discovering that it didn’t creak at all. It was remarkably well made.

“This is exceptional craftsmanship,” he declared and handed it back to her. “Did you make it?”

She nodded, a small smile graced her features, “I did. A spirit of Hope came to me while I was exploring a ruin. She said she had been lured by my singing and showed me how to craft it and play through fragments of memory. She claimed that music can inspire, bringing aspiration, and joy to those in need by expressing that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”

“A rare spirit to have encountered,” he hummed. “They rarely seek this world. Your voice must have been invigorating.”

“I appreciate your flattery,” she chuckled. “Ir abelas, Solas, I didn’t intend to ramble. However, I find you pleasant to speak with even though we’ve only just met.”

He inclined his head respectfully, “It isn’t a bother, the feeling is mutual.”

“Anyhow, I expect you didn’t come up here just to listen to me. I take it you all made a decision?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “The inquisitor has decided you will stay until he can verify that what you told us was true, even if the rest of us believed you.”

She sighed, “That’s good.”

Solas looked at her quizzically, “I beg your pardon?”

“I would be disappointed if he just took it at face value. That would mean the boy never truly listened to me when he was a child. I’m proud of him.”

He was honestly shocked. Most people would hope that others believed them without question, but that wasn’t the case with Idrilla. She wanted people to see the truth for themselves and move forward without clouded judgment.

Solas shook his head and smiled, “He also said he wanted you under constant watch and guard while he was visiting Keeper Hawen in the Exalted Plains.”

She laughed dryly, “They are welcome to try, but I won’t be going anywhere unless I am told to leave. Also, Hawen may not be willing to speak the truth considering he is Seldras’ successor. He’s kinder than the other’s, but superstitious nonetheless.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had a run-in with his clan a few years back. I was injured and he treated my wounds, not that it was necessary… the clan gave me a few supplies before allowing me to leave without a fight but only because they feared Fen’Harel’s wrath,” She scoffed. “Most of the clans leave supplies for me at shrines dedicated to the Dread Wolf in the hopes of appeasing him… and me. They have come in handy while traveling but I tend to leave them be unless necessary. I find it ridiculous that they treat me like their deities.”

He wasn’t surprised to hear that. He knew how the Dalish were when it came to superstition and legend, ever cautious when it came to their ancient adversaries.

“I do not believe there will be anything to worry about. Bull and Cassandra are going with the Inquisitor, also Dorian.”

She laughed, “I’m sure the Ben Hassrath will strike fear into him and make him spill that long-kept secret. Cassandra and Dorian, however, not so much.”

Solas watched her carefully, “I’m not surprised our tal-vashoth ally told you that.”

“He didn’t have to,” Her eyes met his. “I’ve met a number of his… associates in my travels. I learned how they work and how to identify them quickly.”

She gave him a small smile. One that he recognized, a polite and practiced gesture he used often.

“Back to my original point, however, it would be in Nanin’s best interest not to mention that I am here or that he has spoken to me about this matter. It would not help the Inquisition, or him, in the effort of finding out the truth.” 

So this was the woman his people were concerned about… He understood what their wariness stemmed from. She was intelligent and more observant than the others here. Not even Bull had been able to notice his agents but she found them as soon as their attention was focused on her. Probably even before then. He had received a report earlier that evening that one of them had a verbal encounter with her. It had rattled his best agent so much so that all of them had deferred to let Solas himself deal with the situation. From his perspective, she could be a great asset to him, but until he knew more about her he decided to keep himself at a distance while also getting to know her better. The fact that they would be working together if the Inquisitor’s meeting with the Dalish proved fruitful, made things simpler. 

“I will be sure to pass that along to the Inquisitor.”

“Ma serannas-”

Before she could continue something came flying past Solas at a high speed. He raised his hand ready to cast but Idrilla placed a hand on his forearm, halting him. He looked at her with a bewildered expression, but she ignored him and whistled.

A massive bird came gliding down from the skies and landed safely on one of the merlons.

“Solas, this is Irosylis.” 

Solas lowered his hand at her coaxing and gazed at the creature thoughtfully.

“How-” he started to ask and stepped forward only for the bird to extend its wings and open its beak as a warning causing Solas to stop in his tracks.

“Damn bird,” he heard Idrilla mutter. “I apologize, Solas. He can be a bit protective of me.”

“It’s alright, Golden eagles tend to be territorial,” he pulled his hand behind his back and stood up straight. “How did you come across him if I may ask? These predators are often isolated by nature so I’m curious.”

She ran a hand along the bird's neck affectionately, if not exasperatedly, “I found him here, actually, many years ago.”

“You’ve been to Skyhold before?” 

“Yes, I tend to search in dangerous or abandoned places for ruins. I didn’t expect to find this place, but it appeared when I needed it. There was a blizzard and although I had the supplies to survive in these mountains I didn’t have adequate shelter from the storm.”

“How long ago?” he asked.

“Fifteen years, give or take. I wasn’t able to find much, but the library was in decent condition and the fade offered more. I found Irosylis as well, his wing had been wounded and I healed him. He was… difficult to handle at first. He liked to bite a lot,” she laughed. “He came around eventually and he hasn’t left my side since.”

“What did you learn while you were here?”

There was a gleam in her eyes when she looked up at him, “That is a discussion best saved for later, lest we will be here for the next hour. I believe my primary focus should be to introduce everyone to him,” she held her forearm out to Irosylis. “We might as well start with you.”

She offered Solas her hand and took a step toward him. Solas placed his hand in hers and let her guide him forward. The bird watched him carefully but allowed him to run his hand along his neck, following after it when he pulled away. 

“Hold your forearm out,” Idrilla said and he did as he was told. Irosylis stepped onto him and looked at him with a piercing gaze. Solas continued petting him and Idrilla smiled softly.

“See, Solas won’t hurt me.”

The bird looked toward her and ruffled his feathers. After having enough of the affection he lifted his wings, flapping them softly. Idrilla took him back and Irosylis turned around. She lowered her arm and pushed up, sending him into flight.

“An impressive creature. I’m amazed he has taken such a liking to you.”

She watched Irosylis, “There will come a day when he finds himself a mate and I will be content to see him leave my side. But until then I am happy to have him with me,” she sighed. “I think it’s time we head back. I need to have everyone gather in the courtyard so that Irosylis can meet them. The sooner this is done the easier it will be later.”

Solas spoke to her as they made their way back to inform the others who were no doubt still in the war room. He was intrigued by her. She spoke her mind, stating facts and opinions, but always open to new ideas. Not assuming to know everything. Having learned that she was the reason why Nanin had such an inquisitive nature made him wonder who taught her to think in such a way, however, he was content to wait till a later date to learn the answer. 

___________________

Idrilla waited patiently in the courtyard while Solas left to get the others. She felt relieved, which was a surprise considering everything she had told them. A weight had been lifted off of her, she could finally let go of her guilt, but she knew that didn’t mean everything was fine. Reconciling with Nanin would take more than just a few words exchanged. Putting her past behind her was an endeavor she was sure she would never accomplish, however, one thing was certain; for the moment she was at ease. A smile formed on her lips shortly before the sound of multiple pairs of feet resonated from behind her.

“Snarky… what is this about meeting a bird?” Varric asked.

Idrilla looked over at Solas who was quick to answer her questioning expression, “I took the liberty in explaining the reason they were being brought here.”

“Ma serannas, Solas. That will make things a bit easier.”

She turned away from the group and raised her eyes to the sky. Considering they were farther away from the said bird she knew a whistle wouldn’t be enough to reach him. She took a deep breath and released three quick, high pitched cries that echoed around them. Everything became still as they all waited then she spotted a dark mass come speeding toward her. She lifted her arm, allowing the creature to come gliding in slowly before perching there comfortably. He eyed the people behind her suspiciously before Cole appeared beside them effectively getting his attention. The bird bowed his head to him and the spirit stroked his feathers lightly. 

Idrilla smiled, “Everyone, this is Irosylis, a Golden Eagle native to these mountains.”

“That thing is fuckin’ huge!” Bull exclaimed with an excited gleam in his eye.

“Darling,” Vivienne’s voice was dignified but held a slight sound of disgust. “Please tell me we will not have to hear this creature’s incessant squawking?”

Idrilla’s eyes were sharp as a razor as they connected with the enchanter's gaze, “On the contrary, Madame De Fer, this species are silent predators. They rarely make any noise and when they do it is very weak and high pitched. You are more likely to hear them during their mating season, however, they are very territorial and solitary animals so they don’t nest near populated areas. So much so they won’t even nest near another of its kind.”

The enchanter was quick to stop whatever thoughts she was about to speak, so Idrilla turned her attention to the others.

“Lady Marel, if I may ask, why is it important that we… _meet_ your companion?” Josephine asked dubiously.

The ambassador’s question made Idrilla chuckle, “To put it bluntly, Irosylis would, quite literally, chase you away from me if you attempted to approach me since he doesn’t know you aren’t a threat. That of course excludes Solas and Cole considering they already had the pleasure of meeting him.” 

She looked over at the spirit who was still showing the bird affection. 

He looked up at her and his eyes widened, “Yes, that will help.” he breathed then disappeared.

He reappeared a second later holding a thick leather arm brace.

Idrilla took it from him gratefully, “Although it is unnecessary, this may be able to mitigate some of your unease. You do not have to let him perch if you don’t want to but you will have to approach him,” she addressed the group firmly before looking over at Solas. “I would have offered this had I had it with me earlier, ir abelas.”

Solas shook his head dismissively, “You have nothing to apologize for. I can assure you that I would have said something if it had troubled me.”

“Ma serannas. So, who wants to go first?”

“I’ll give it a go.” Bull stepped forward with a cocky grin.

“Lucky you, you won’t need the arm brace.”

“Why?” Blackwall asked.

“Qunari skin is almost as tough as boar hide, if not tougher. Even if you split it open that doesn’t mean it’ll bleed or cause a lot of damage. It would take a significant amount of force to hurt him. I can only imagine what it’s like trying to give your hulking ass stitches.” She smirked up at the towering man. 

Bull burst out laughing and gave her his hand, letting her guide him forward as she had done with Solas and Cole. Irosylis was wary at first and quickly settled down, stepping up onto the man's arm with expectant eyes. In contrast to the Qunari, the bird did not seem nearly as large as he normally did. 

The rest of the introductions went smoothly with only Vivienne, Cassandra, Sera, and Josephine refusing the offer of holding him. However, two people were missing from the group.

“Where are the Inquisitor and Dorian?” Idrilla asked, cocking her head to the side to glance at the group. “I noticed their absence when you arrived. I expected they would be here by now.”

“The Inquisitor retired to his quarters,” Josephine’s voice was wistful as she spoke of him. “After everything you told us he said he needed some time. I believe Dorian left to try and comfort him.”

Idrilla’s chest clenched, “Very well, I understand. This can wait till after this situation has been put to rest.” 

When Irosylis returned to her he nuzzled her cheek, sensing her hurt. She smiled woefully at the creature then sent him back to the skies so that he could hunt and find someplace to rest.

Everyone left so that they might do the same but Idrilla stayed. Her feet glued to the ground beneath her and her eyes fixed to the specks of light that flickered above. 

“I will be fine,” she looked over at Solas and Cole who had lingered with her, looks of grief plastered on their faces. “It will take time, but for now I will do as I have always done… endure.”


	5. Ha'hren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Ea'atish, Myathem'sa - Be calm, Honored one
> 
> Sylvas - Freedom's breath
> 
> Sylvan - trees possessed by demons or spirits.
> 
> If dialogue is italicized then it means that either Idrilla or Solas are speaking in elvhen while in private. While in the presence of any of the other characters that can't understand the language then it will be written in elvhen and will be translated as shown above.

The Inquisitor departed the next morning and left her with uneasy anticipation. A feeling that churned in her stomach, something she hadn’t felt in a while: anxiety. There was no telling what would happen. She had no way of knowing how Nanin would react or what Keeper Hawen would say. She tried not to think much of it as she watched the group cross the bridge and disappear into the mountain paths below but whatever the result was... she could do little to change it. 

Idrilla walked the battlements, trying to distract herself, but it wasn’t working. She decided that she needed a task. Something to keep her hands busy. She had heard new mounts had been brought to the keep and she had yet to make herself acquainted with them since arriving here. 

Making her way to Dennet, she kept on eye out for the agents that had been following her thanks to Leliana and the mystery person from before. So far as she could tell, the elvhen spies were no longer bothering with her, but the Raven’s people were as vigilant as ever. She spotted at the least three before she descended the stairs next to the stables. 

Blackwall was standing at a table on the inside carving what looked to be a child’s toy. The man noticed her approach and a shy expression appeared on his face.

“I was unaware you enjoyed carving, Blackwall.”

“Oh, this is...” he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just something to keep my hands busy.”

She inclined her head, “That is nothing to be ashamed of. I find the arts an admirable hobby to take part in.”

The man released a breath of relief, “So what brought you here?” 

“I thought I would come and visit the mounts. I have a fondness for animals, you see, and they put me at ease. Also, I heard that some new ones were brought here the other day, Harts, to be more specific.”

“Right, there was only one Hart if I remember correctly. The rest were just horses. But the Hart was a bit-”

At that moment, a loud, high pitched trumpet sound erupted from the stalls. Yelling from the stable hands followed and both she and the warden rushed to see what had happened.

One of the Harts was lashing out as they tried to put a saddle on it’s back. It had a gorgeous coat of onyx and pearl colored patterns that highlighted its face and sides. Its antlers were an elegant shade of silver that arched above its head. She could sense it’s distress.

She whistled, “Ea’atish, Myathem’sa.”

The creature halted it’s outburst. 

Everyone stared at her as she approached the beast with astonished expressions. Its eyes stayed locked with hers until she stood right in front of it then she raised her palm to it and it sniffed her briefly before a sneeze escaped its nostrils. It placed its muzzle into her hand and she smiled.

“I don’t understand what spooked him,” Dennet commented.

Then an instinctual thought rushed through her mind as if it were not her own.

“It’s the saddle. He doesn’t like it.”

“How do you know that?” One of the younger stable boys asked.

She looked at him with a gentle gaze, “I’m not entirely sure. I can just sense it.”

The boy’s eyes widened along with everyone else’s.

“What I do know, however, is that you can’t treat Hart’s as if they are Horses. Like the common horse, Harts have unique personalities but they are more prominent and can’t be tamed out of them. Some may be content with any rider while others will be picky. It’s the same with saddles and depending on which region they came from, they may prefer certain foods to others. This one seems to be very prideful and demands respect but also requires a firm rider.”

Cole appeared beside her, “You understand, he will only listen to you. He won’t let anyone else ride him.”

Her brows lifted with surprise, “Well, now…”

“That’s fine by me, as long as I don’t have to worry about him lashing out again.” Dennet huffed.

“Then I suppose he will need a name…” she gazed at the creature thoughtfully. “What do you think of Sylvas?”

The Hart let out a pleased cry and raised it’s fronts legs.

Idrilla giggled, “I take that as approval then,” She felt the feeling of happiness course through her like the thought from before. “Shhh, shhh, be calm, Ma’falon.”

Sylvas stilled and looked at her intensely, a peculiar gleam in his eyes.

“He wants to run with you…” Cole smiled.

She looked at Dennet, “Would that be alright?”

“I suppose so. Have you ever ridden a Hart before?”

“No, I’ve ridden horses before, and Halla, but never a Hart. I’m sure this will be quite the experience.” She smiled excitedly.

“Jonah,” she called. “Come on out from wherever you are skulking.”

The boy emerged from one of the small groups that lingered nearby.

“Let Leliana know that I will be leaving the fortress for a time.”

“I’ll go with her,” Blackwall offered.

The boy nodded and, without a word, left to inform the Raven of this turn of events.

She looked at Sylvas, “Are you ready?”

He cried out again and his body shook with excitement. Mindful of his antlers she positioned herself at his side, placing her hands on his back and pushed herself up, quickly swinging her leg over him. 

Another wave of instinctual thought washed over her. Her body began moving on its own, adjusting her seated position so that her legs rested behind Sylvas’s shoulders. She angled her feet as if they were sitting in stirrups. Once she was settled comfortably Sylvas kicked the ground twice. Blackwall was quick to mount one of the horses to join her.

“Let’s start easy, okay?” Idrilla patted Sylvas’s neck affectionately.

The beast did as she asked and started with a slow walk to the gate. All eyes in the vicinity watched as she allowed Sylvas to guide her, her back straight, and allowing her body to move along with his to keep her balance. They passed through the gates and made their way across the bridge before turning off onto a path that led to an open field just below the fortress.

It was a mass expanse of grass and melted snow thanks to the sun. Some flowers could be seen growing amongst the lingering frost.

“It is beautiful here, don’t you think?” She asked the Warden.

Blackwall gazed at their surroundings, “Yes, I believe it is.”

“It just goes to show that this world perseveres and the beauty it contains can, and will survive even in these times of chaos.” 

Idrilla went silent for a few moments before shaking herself from her thoughts, “Forgive me, I am being melodramatic.”

He shook his head, “It’s okay. There needs to be at least one person who can recognize that, now more than ever.” 

She eased Sylvas forward and they grazed for a while until she had become accustomed to his movements.

“Let’s speed up.”

Sylvas complied readily, making Idrilla lean forward to keep from flying back, her fingers gripping what little bit of fur he had on his neck gently. They continued that way for a time before she decided she was ready for more, then squeezed his sides with her legs to give him a silent cue to begin galloping. In his excitement, he took off toward a fallen tree.

“Wait! Slow down!-” Blackwall called out but it was too late.

The hart bound over it and Idrilla gripped his sides tighter with her knees to stay in place. She raised her upper body and braced for impact. When they landed he continued and cried out triumphantly. She couldn’t contain herself and did so as well, laughing happily as the wind whipped past her.

Eventually, she eased him back to trot and returned to Blackwall’s side where he was waiting patiently. 

“That scared the shit out of me…” he muttered.

She laughed, “Don’t be so down, Blackwall. Everything was under control-”

Something moved in the surrounding trees and she fell silent, watching, listening for more. A small pack of wolves appeared not too far from them. The alpha stopped in its tracks, looking at them intently causing the mounts to stir uncomfortably. 

She calmed Sylvas with a brush of her fingers when something moved in the corner of her eye. Blackwall was getting ready to draw his sword but she stopped him. 

“Don’t move. They won’t come any closer,” Blackwall gazed at her with conflicted eyes before she continued. “They are either passing through or have den nearby. They won’t attack us unless we act rashly and threaten them.”

After a moment, the alpha continued on its path with the rest of the wolves, not paying them any mind. They disappeared back into the surrounding trees and Blackwall let out a breath of relief.

“Sorry, most wolves we’ve encountered have gone mad because of the rifts and attack anything on sight.”

She stared in the direction the pack had gone, “It’s alright. ‘Tis to be expected. The breach, along with the rifts, has thrown off the balance of almost everything. I’d be surprised if nothing were affected by them... What is most intriguing, however, is that most other animals are seemingly unperturbed by the ordeal.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

A gleam of enthusiasm flashed through her eyes when she looked at him, “Animals do not have virtues or ambitions as we do. Their most basic instinct is survival. As such, they do not often attract spirits. However, some spirits become curious.”

Blackwall listened intently as she spoke, “Also, spirits are not only able to inhabit the body of a living person or corpse. They can possess animals and trees as well, but since they do not have virtues it warps their perception driving them to madness because they are unable to understand this world. Nothing changes here, but in the Fade, perception and thought are all you need to change the things around you.”

“Trees? Really?” The Warden wore a perplexed expression.

“Yes, the Dalish call them Sylvans. For demons crossing over into our world, mankind is not always the preferred prey. As possessing the living means risking encounters with powerful mages and templars, some demons find it far easier to seek out animals or even plants. Generally, only rage demons become sylvans. They will spend considerable time and effort twisting and molding the host to make it mobile. A sylvan is a walking tree and if violent can prove very dangerous. Other, more intelligent, spirits have also been known to become sylvans. These are rare, but usually much less threatening. I have only met one such creature. Many referred to it as the Grand Oak or the Elder Tree.”

“What are the Sylvans like?”

“Slow but immensely powerful, they prefer to lie in wait for a victim to become lost, tired, or trapped in the forest. They hide among regular trees, nearly undetectable until they begin to move and reach. When they "come to life," as some travelers say, sylvans stand tall, with roots forming legs and branches stretching into lashing arms. While normally slow to move and act, some sylvans can move with startling speed,” She fell silent for a moment. “When not presented with a living target, however, sylvans often fall into a form of dormancy, perhaps brought on by the nature of their tree host. While mobile, they return to wherever they were rooted once their prey has been killed. For both these reasons, a forest that has sylvans within can become incredibly dangerous to pass through for very long periods.”

Blackwall’s brow raised, “But this… Grand Oak you mentioned is not like the others of its kind?”

“No, he dwells in the western parts of the Brecilian Forest and not much is known about him. Not even he can recall a time where he was not as he is now. From my experience, he is a gentle giant and quite the conversationalist.” 

“It talks?”

She chuckled, “Yes, but only in rhymes. He has a sense of humor as well, his puns are remarkable.”

Blackwall laughed, “You must be joking.”

“When you have known me longer, you will learn that I mean everything that I say,” Idrilla gazed at the sky, taking note that the sun had reached its highest peak. “We should head back before Leliana sends out a search party.”

When they arrived back at the fortress Dennet was waiting for them.

“I didn’t think you two would come back,” the man barked out a laugh. “How did it go?”

Blackwall smiled brightly, “She’s a natural. She rode Sylvas like she’d been riding him her whole life.”

Dennet raised a brow at her, “That’s surprising. I half expected you to be thrown off. But whatever, let’s get them back in the stalls.”

Idrilla was attentive in caring for the creature. She brushed him down and cleaned his hooves then gave him food and water. She stayed while he ate, caressing his neck lovingly, but she knew she couldn’t stay much longer. The day was growing later and the air became cooler with it. When she turned to step away, Sylvas’s head shot up. He locked her in place by laying his chin over her shoulder and pulled her back, knocking her against the stall door.

She laughed and patted his cheek, “Come now, there is no need for that.”

The creature reluctantly let her go, a gust of air blowing past her ear in the process.

“Don’t know how we are gonna be able to handle him if he is gonna be that clingy,” Dennet said as he walked by.

“If it will make your job easier, Master Dennet, then I will come by every day around this time to tend to him myself.”

“For that, I would be grateful,” he responded, obviously exasperated with the situation.

“Then it is settled. If you ever have need of me then let me know,” She looked back at Sylvas. “And you, behave yourself. I will be back tomorrow.” Her tone was firm, giving no room for complaint.

He huffed in response, then went back to eating. Idrilla left, waving to the Warden as she did. 

Upon ascending the stairs to the upper courtyard, she watched the people bustle about. In the distance, she caught sight of the elvhen woman from the night before. Sera, if she remembered correctly, was standing in front of a group of practice dummies next to the tavern with a look of irritation on her face. 

Idrilla approached her quietly then leaned against the tavern wall to observe. Cole appeared beside her.

“She doesn’t like me… so I try not to let her see me.” He whispered.

She looked at the boy sympathetically but nodded in understanding regardless before returning her attention to the girl.

Sera drew her bow again and loosed an arrow upon one of the targets, but missed. She broke out in curses, stomping her way over to retrieve the arrow once more.

The girl didn’t bother to look up and kept mumbling to herself as she made her way back.

“Your stance was too wide,” Idrilla stated.

Sera jumped, a shriek escaped her lips, “How long have you been there?”

“Longer than you’d like, I suspect.”

She scoffed, her tone defensive as she spoke, “What would a mage now about arrows anyway?”

“A great deal if you would allow me to teach you. An open stance is good if you’re on uneven ground. The downside is that because it rotates your hips towards the target when you do drawback, you have a tendency to just use your arms instead of your back muscles. However, from what I saw, your irritation is making you overdraw and in turn making you miss the target completely.”

“Prove it.”

Sera handed her the bow she had been using along with the quiver, which had only two arrows remaining, then crossed her arms against her chest. Her chin held high, a cocky grin forming on her lips.

“If you insist.” 

She took what was offered, strapping the quiver over her shoulder and testing the weight of the bow itself. Assuming a relaxed stance, she looked at the target then turned her lead foot to face it, bringing her other leg back. 

She grabbed an arrow from the quiver and notched it before lifting her arms to begin her draw and took a deep breath. Once her index finger reached the corner of her mouth she took aim and released the air in her lungs, loosing the arrow at the same time. It flew, hitting its target, dead center of the dummy’s head.

Sera balked, huffing indignantly seconds later, “Beginners luck.”

Taking that as a challenge, Idrilla loosed the last arrow faster than the girl could blink. It took the same path as the first one, splitting it in half.

“Do not be so quick to judge others, Red Jenny. That pride can be an asset if you know how to use it, but it can also be your undoing.”

The girl’s mouth opened and closed in shock, “You just… how... what the-”

A frustrated sound left her lips. Idrilla handed her things back and she snatched then from her before she turned to walk away. 

Sera’s voice stopped her, “How’d you do that?”

“Years of practice and not letting my emotions get the better of me.”

She left the girl to figure it out on her own and went back inside the fortress. Varric was in his chair as he normally was so she opted to ask him some questions.

“Hello, Varric.”

“Snarky!” he greeted. “What brings you here?”

“I have questions about how all this started. I wasn’t in Ferelden when the breach opened and only returned after Haven had been destroyed, so I’m curious. Also, it would be wise to know what we are up against.”

The dwarf hummed thoughtfully, “Well, you be better off asking Chuckles. I don’t understand any of that magic crap and he would know more anyway.”

“I see. Ma serannas, Varric.”

She entered the rotunda and Solas’s eyes met hers. He was sat at his desk, books, and papers scattered across its surface.

“Idrilla, what can I do for you?”

She smiled, “I was hoping you could tell me about the breach and how Haven was destroyed.”

“I mean no disrespect, but couldn’t you have asked one of the others or even the Spymaster?”

“I have ever since arriving here,” she glanced around the room. “However, each of them has pointed me in your direction. I’ve heard that you are the Inquisition’s Fade Expert and that you have the best understanding of what happened. Also, you were the one who treated Nanin’s mark.”

Solas smirked, “What would you like to know?”

“Everything.”

And so he told her but when he mentioned the artifact that placed the mark on Nanin’s hand she couldn’t help but feel like she knew what he was speaking of.

“Ir abelas, Solas. I need to go grab something… I’ll be right back.”

She left with no explanation only to return with three thick journals.

“So this Corypheus claims to be a god or at the very least that he will become one?”

Solas nodded, his brows pulled together tightly in frustration. She could tell that this “Magister” unsettled him greatly.

“And the orb his carries,” she continued, searching her notes until she found what she was looking for. “Is elvhen. I have seen depictions of such artifacts of power in multiple elvhen ruins. In each depiction, they are shown in the possession of one of the Evanuris… though I am unsure why. With only scraps to work with, the only thing I can assume is that they were made specifically for each member of the pantheon and not much else.”

She handed him her journal and watched as he looked them over, “I was unaware you were fluent in ancient elvhen…” he said, more to himself instead of her.

For some reason, she felt embarrassed, heat gathering in her cheeks as she searched for the right words to say, “I… I can read and write in the language, but speaking it is a different story. Pronunciation has always been an issue for me considering I haven’t met anyone fluent enough to go off of. I know bits and pieces, a few basic phrases and words thanks to the Dalish, but even then they could still be pronouncing them wrong.”

He looked back up at her and smiled as she continued. Her tone changed from uncertainty to exasperation.

“Any spirits I could consult know little of the subject…” she looked away dejectedly. “Any others that could help aren’t easy to find or rarely seek out the waking world making it close to impossible to receive answers. I’ve tried cross-referencing my notes to try and figure it out on my own, but a dead language…”

It was silent for a moment, but then Solas spoke, _“Even so, I am impressed,”_ he began. _“If you like, I can teach you. You have an amazing grasp of the language already. I doubt it would take you long to learn.”_

Idrilla’s eyes widened and she stared at him. She had learned that he was an expert on many things, but she hadn’t thought he could speak fluent elvhen. It fit perfectly on his lips, smooth and effortless. Even his accent sounded more authentic when spoken in the ancient tongue.

She blinked, “I… yes, that would be wonderful, but are you sure?”

He chuckled, “I wouldn’t have offered if I were not.”

Idrilla smiled, it was soft and genuine. One very different from the smile she trained herself to have.

“Ma serannas, Hahren,” she then brought them back to the original subject to keep from embarrassing herself more. She was sure Solas knew what she was doing, but even so, he didn’t stop her.

They spoke fervently about the orb, late into the night in fact.

“I am unsure how he could even use it…” Solas muttered.

“It would be easier to determine how if I knew what it was used for, but it could be looked at like picking a lock, using a tool that was not created for the artifact to open it in a sense. Blood magic maybe…” she fell silent. “He could have corrupted. Made it so that it reacts to his magic, but he wouldn’t be able to draw out its full power. Corruption would warp it’s original purpose… weakening whatever magic was contained within it.”

Solas looked to be deep in thought and irritated that he hadn’t considered that possibility, “That could work.”

Idrilla sighed, “With all the missing information, and no way to look at the orb ourselves, it’s all just speculation. And yet, history holds it’s breath and repeats itself, waiting. Because where there is power, there are always those who will seek it by any means necessary.”

_______________________________

Solas watched her carefully. This woman before him was a marvel. She had wandered farther than her people had ever dared and discovered so much of what was lost. Had learned the language that was her birthright and more. She had no fear of spirits like most people of this age harbored. It drove him to want to know more about her.

“Ir abelas, it seems I was rambling again.” 

He smiled, “I do not mind. You speak the truth freely and I believe that is admirable.”

He saw color rise to her cheeks once more and it filled him with gratification. An odd sensation considering they had only just met the day before. He wouldn’t deny that he found her to be attractive, her intelligence only intensified its effect on him. However, it would be unwise to act on that feeling so he pushed it back as far as he could.

“It has gotten late,” She stated, looking up at the library to find that it was now empty. “I have taken much of your time so I shall go. Thank you for indulging me this evening… hopefully, we can do this again.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Idrilla smiled and headed toward the stairs only stop and look back at him.

_“May you have peaceful dreams, Solas.”_

He inclined his head, _“And you as well, Idrilla.”_


	6. Darkness Turns to Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, I know, but I've been so busy lately that I haven't really gotten around to writing. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> This is what Hope looks like - https://pin.it/4tgFurP
> 
> I imagined Idrilla's meditative state to be similar to that Of Samara from Mass Effect 2, just without the glowing eyes. - https://images.app.goo.gl/DgAqFnXo8ZXawg196
> 
> Edit: sorry my dumb self didn't added all of it 😂
> 
> The song Maryden and Idrilla play is called Stampede by Alexander Jean ft. Lindsey Stirling - https://youtu.be/-9rdDeWzvsU

Idrilla began visiting Solas daily as the weeks passed by. They spoke avidly on the Orb, Corypheus, and of current events. Solas also had many questions on the ruins she had visited and what she had discovered. The spirits she had encountered and her impressions of them. With his help, she was becoming more confident in speaking her native tongue so it became a common occurrence for them to have long conversations while using it. It was clear to see that they were becoming fast friends. 

But there were days when they would sit in silence, just enjoying the other’s presence. That day was one of them.

Idrilla sat on the couch inside the rotunda, sketching in her journal as she watched Solas begin another fresco. It was a pleasure to watch him work, quick, sure strokes ran across the plaster, steady hands that knew exactly what shapes to form and where. 

She had watched him lay down the first layer of plaster just a few days prior. It was thick and rough whereas the final coat was thin and smooth. Wet to the touch so that the pigments could seep into it and set. There was no room for error. Each minute that passed was precious. He was in a race against time to bring the picture to life before the plaster dried completely.

Solas had been at it for hours and was finally reaching its completion. His arms dropped to his sides, plaster stuck to them along with his hands, the watery pigments had stained his fingers. He turned at the sound of Idrilla humming quietly to herself.

She felt eyes on her and glanced up from her journal one last time. She was met with striking colors. The mural depicted Corypheus’s attack on Haven.

Haven was in Corypheus's shadow, at his feet, set ablaze. The mountains surrounded him on the bottom half and an orange sky with circular shapes radiated from where he reached for the heavens. Above that, his head was outlined in red and set on a disk of gold, like a sun. Around the sun were scales of black, edged in golden highlights. Red outlined his body within the sun-disk. There was another one within him, edged in yellow with his hands around the ord. It was yellow, outlined in crimson, with four dots at the cardinals on it. A line of yellow dots flowed from it to the burning village.

Her eyes traveled down and locked with Solas’s, _“It’s beautiful.”_

_“Thank you, the tune you were humming was pleasant to hear as well.”_

She blushed, _“Ah, I apologize if it was distracting. I tend to do that when I’m focused.”_

 _“I see,”_ he smirked playfully. _“Might I inquire as to what grabbed your attention so?”_

His tone was flirtatious, even if it hadn’t been what he had intended.

_“Of course.”_

She handed him the journal, carefully as to not smudge the work she had done so far. She had been sketching him: a side profile portrait, his arm raised, his hand holding a paintbrush. The spaces around it were filled with sketches of him in different positions along with different expressions he had made while working.

Watching as he gazed at it made her feel inferior considering the work he had just completed. An art form that took tremendous skill. One of which must have taken him years to master, made her work seem like nothing but a scribble on parchment.

 _“I am flattered that you chose me as your muse. I am impressed that you captured so much detail with just charcoal,”_ his eyes lingered on the page for a moment. _“May I look at your other works?”_

She nodded in approval and he flipped back to the first page then took a seat next to her so that she could explain what he was seeing, what places she had drawn, the creatures and people, the stories behind her motivation to immortalize them. They stopped on one of her favorites.

 _“While I was traveling, I happened across an amphitheater,”_ she began, his eyes lifted to her face as she gazed down at the page, a small smile forming on her lips, _“It’s structures were crumbling and the roof above the stage was falling apart. The forest that surrounded it had overgrown, roots, and trees sprouted through cracks creating a canopy of leaves and flowers alike among the stands.”_

In the middle of the sketch stood a feminine spectral figure with long hair. A flowing dress trailed behind her, the bottom almost see-through.

_“The dreams I had there showed me smooth, white pillars of marble. Gold detailing highlighted everything within the sun’s reach. Glass fixtures created a prism of colors that I could have never imagined. As I explored, I could hear echoes of song that reverberated off the stones so I sang along as best I could and that is when she came to me.”_

She turned the page, revealing a close-up portrait of the previous figure.

 _“This is Hope…”_ Realization set upon Solas’s features as he gazed at it.

_“Yes, I called her Sulenelan. I don’t know if she took the form of an elf for my comfort, or if it were one she was accustomed to, or even just her preference, but she was ethereal. I tried my best to capture her entirety, but I do not believe this does her justice.”_

Solas smiled, _“Even so, your perception of her is quite lovely.”_

_“Thank you... She inspired me that day. It was a difficult time in my life where I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to help people but had no means to do so, nothing to drive me to do it. You could say that I was also bitter and consumed by rage at what had been done to me, at what I had been forced to do. Living on the run and in hiding, whether it be from Templars or my people. I felt as if I had no future, but she gave me a different perspective on my situation. I finally saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything.”_

At that moment Jonah entered the rotunda, “Lady Marel, do you have a moment?”

Idrilla looked at the boy skeptically, “Is there a problem, Jonah?”

“No, the Spymaster asked me to pass along some information. We received word that the Inquisitor and his party would arrive back at the fortress within the day.”

“That was quick of them,” her eyes widened. “I hadn’t expected them to be back so soon.”

“Yes, the Spymaster also requested that you all meet in the war room for a debriefing when the Inquisitor arrives.” 

Both her and Solas nodded in understanding so the boy left, leaving her with a cold feeling in her chest. 

Idrilla was silent for some time, unable to discern her conflicted feelings. On one hand, she was glad that the wait was over, but on the other, she dreaded the result and facing this problem head-on was proving to be more difficult than she thought it would. 

_“Are you alright, Lethal’lan?”_ Solas looked at her with concern.

Her eyes shut tightly then she looked up at him, _“I am fine, it’s just… I am not accustomed to so many knowing about my past, at least not the people I’m working with. I am used to dealing with it on my own. Normally, I would push it aside and continue on but now that Nanin is involved it’s just harder to ignore it.”_

He looked at her sympathetically, _“What frightens you about him knowing?”_

_“That he will grow to hate his people and be left with no one. He has all of you now, but this Inquisition won’t last forever. Eventually, you all will go your separate ways and he will have to either return to clan Lavellan or find a new home that he may not have after all this is over.”_

It was silent while Solas allowed her to collect her thoughts. They swam back and forth through her mind as she tried to find the right words to express what she was feeling.

 _“It’s hard to even think about because I know that if I do remain here I will have to leave as well once Corypheus is dealt with… I can’t protect him as I used too. Not from an enemy, not from the truth, not from lies either.”_ she leaned back against the cushions and took a deep breath. 

_“It might be more difficult to leave this time around…”_

Solas nodded, _“Sometimes leaving behind that which we care for the most is the hardest decision we can make… even if we know it’s the best way to keep it safe.”_

Idrilla could hear the sadness in his voice. The deep hurt that lingered in his chest. She could tell that he understood on a personal level but decided that now was not the time to pry. There had been enough talk of the past as far as she was concerned.

_“For now, all we can do is wait and see what the Inquisitor has to say. Until then, it is pointless to agonize over the future.”_

_“Wisely said,”_ he smiled lightly before rising from his seat and making his way back to his desk.

Idrilla grabbed her journal once more and turned to a new page, already seeking new inspiration to distract herself for the time being.

______________________________

Solas had been reading a new tome when he heard Idrilla begin mumbling to herself. The soft sound of her journal closing made him look up from his page, catching her move to the floor. He was perplexed at this turn of events and his curiosity got the better of him so he kept his gaze on her to see what she would do.

She crossed her legs, her back straight but supported by the couch behind her, and lifted her hands before closing her eyes. 

“Meditation?” he wondered. 

An aura of calm surrounded her within the next second and he felt the veil tremble as the magic in her stirred. A melody, so soft that he could barely hear it, resonated from her lips causing the thrum of her being to shift with each rise and fall of her voice. Ambient magic gathered in between her hands, tiny wisps manifested and floated around her, appearing to be dancing to her tune.

It was something he had not seen in ages. A form of meditation that took such great focus and patience to learn that even he had not been able to master it. She was allowing magic to enter and course through her being, then flow from her palms with such tight control that he was astounded. This woman was surprising him at every turn and he couldn’t decide if it unnerved or pleased him.

He returned his gaze to the book in front of him but made a point to divide his focus between it and her voice. Its effect was almost hypnotizing, causing him to barely register what he had read thus far. He tried to shake it off, however, he found that the repetitious sound was far too soothing to ignore. So he let it flow through him and feel his magic rise and fall with her own, lulling his mind to a tranquil state that he could barely reach outside of the Fade.

Solas hadn’t realized how much time had passed until he closed the tome making him notice that he had begun to sing along with her once his voice stopped. He let his gaze fall to her once more to find that she hadn’t moved an inch, the song hadn’t faltered either, the magic around having only strengthened.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask but couldn’t bring himself to disturb the peace she had created with her presence. He wondered about what skills she possessed that she hadn’t shown already, what she could be capable of with the amount of focus she was presenting. It went so far that he tried to imagine what she would have been like during his time; how his people would have reacted to her. Would they be as enthralled as he was watching her? Would the other Gods have accepted her as one of their own? Could she have pacified them with her voice? Easing the minds of those who had caused so much pain.

It baffled him that she could affect him in such a way since they had only just met not a month before this moment. That she could cause his thoughts to wander to something impossible. He had believed Nanin had caused him to start questioning his goals, but now, she was the one who disturbed his thoughts so thoroughly. The more he spoke to her, the more he learned, compelled him to want to know more. He had the urge to teach her all he knew and hear her thoughts as if she could understand it all. She felt more real to him than anything he had witnessed in this world so far and that alone scared him.

His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the door opening, pulling his attention away from the woman that shook him so profoundly. 

A servant had entered the room, her eyes drifting to Idrilla, and immediately widening in shock. It quickly turned to slight fear, however, causing his irritation to rise beyond reason.

“May I help you?” he asked, his tone blunt, catching the woman off guard.

Her head snapped toward him as if she hadn’t even noticed he was there, “I… I apologize for disturbing the two of you, but the Inquisitor has just arrived at the fortress. Both of you are being summoned to the war room immediately.”

His brow rose in disbelief at the amount of time that had passed without him noticing. He glanced at the candle on his desk to confirm it and saw that it had almost burned out completely.

He inclined his head with a sigh, “I see, Thank you for alerting me.”

“What… what should I do about her?” the girl asked, her voice wavering nervously.

“I will handle it so do not concern yourself.”

She released a breath of relief then bowed and left as quickly as possible. He rolled his eyes once she was gone. Honestly, the fear surrounding magic of any kind mystified him. Solas understood that it was mostly because of the Chantries teachings, but even most cultures outside of the religion still harbored some form of apprehension when it came to the subject. Not even the Dalish would keep more than one mage at a time within their clan, excluding their Keeper.

Solas’s focus returned to the matter at hand and approach Idrilla carefully. He could tell that she could most likely continue for much longer if she were permitted and a pang of guilt rushed through him since he had to bring it to an end.

 _“Lethal’lan?”_ he called to her softly.

Her song ceased as she raised her head to where he stood, _“Yes, Lethal’lin?”_

_“The Inquisitor has returned… it is time.”_

She nodded softly, taking a deep breath, then released the energy she had gathered. The wisps dissipated and her eyes opened slowly. They were void of her previous anxiety and now held determination.

He held his hand out to her and she took it gratefully, pulling herself from her seated position and on to her feet. Without a word they made their way to the war room, passing by many of the nobles that had gathered to welcome the Inquisitor. They found Varric waiting for them by Josephine’s office. He smiled at them both but Solas could see the worry written upon the dwarf’s face when he looked at Idrilla. They continued in silence, with both he and Varric sneaking glances at the woman who walked calm and confidently in front of them. 

The large doors opened slowly then closed with a soft thud as they stepped inside and gazed at the others that had arrived before them. Everyone was there except for Nanin and his group. 

“Snarky, you good?” Varric asked.

Her eyes lowered to him gracefully, “I will be fine, Varric. I have faced greater foes than an audience with the Inquisitor. Also, it is difficult to be afraid of someone when you have had to change their small clothes when they were a babe.”

The dwarf snorted, “I see your point.”

Chuckles echoed around the room, even Solas couldn’t help himself.

Leliana smirked, “The Inquisitor and the rest of his party should be here shortly-”

A commotion from the hallway grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Amatus, slow down!” Dorian’s muffled voice called out dramatically. “The inner circle isn’t going to disappear.”

“Boss!” Bull’s voice followed.

Then finally Cassandra, “Inquisitor!”

The doors burst open. The Inquisitor came into view, breath heavy, his shoulders rising with each intake of air. 

Solas glanced at Idrilla to find her turning to face the boy then looked back at him. Nanin’s head snapped up to meet her gaze. Multiple different emotions passed over his features before tears began gathering in his eyes.

Idrilla’s brow rose in confusion, “Nanin?-”

The Inquisitor moved with a speed no one had witnessed before. He threw his arms around Idrilla, burying his face into her shoulder, shaking slightly.

She stiffened for a moment, but then a softness graced her features as she closed her arms around him. The boy relaxed as she ran her hand over his hair and he began rapidly stumbling over apologies in Elvhen. His grip on her only tightened.

“The Keeper told us everything,” he hiccuped. “ _Ir abelas! Ar ame ir abelas!”_

Everyone else watched the scene unfold with surprised expressions. They had never seen the Inquisitor this worked up before. 

She silenced him gently, _“Ea atish, Da Fenlin._ It is all in the past now and you have nothing to apologize for.” 

Nanin’s head jerked back from her, his brows pulled together in anguish, “I could have done something! Talked to my father or the other elders! If I had known I could have-!”

Idrilla brought her hands up and cupped his face to wipe his tears away as they cascaded down his cheeks. His outburst stopped as he waited to hear what she had to say. 

Solas kept his reactions neutral but couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest when he saw a motherly smile form on Idrilla’s lips, however, there was a sadness in her eyes that told him she knew what Nanin would have done if he had known the truth, or worse, what would have happened to him.

“Simply let go of the idea that it could have been any different,” she said as she brought her hands down to the boy’s shoulders, forcing him to stand up straight and look at her. “The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion. All we have is now so do not dwell on things you cannot change.” 

Nanin took a deep breath and collected himself, _“Ma nuvenin, Asa’ma’lin.”_

“Now the rest of this conversation can be had in private. We have accosted much of our friends’ time already, don’t you agree?” 

His eyes widened and his cheeks darkened in embarrassment, “Creators! I can’t believe I did that in front of everyone…”

He hid his face in his hands only seconds before Cole appeared beside him, “It’s okay… they understand. It is something you needed. It helped.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Idrilla smiled. 

It took the boy a few minutes to collect himself, but he was quick to explain everything they had been told.

"What Idrilla told us is true. Keeper Hawen confirmed everything," he looked around the room thoughtfully. "I'm still trying to figure out how someone would do something like that."

The room was silent for there were a number of different answers to his thought.

"No matter, it's in the past and she is with us now. Any opinions on what our next move should be?"

Cassandra stepped forward, "Have we received word on our progress with the Western Approach?"

"I agree," Solas nodded firmly.

Cullen sighed, "We are still months away from being able to make the journey. So far most of our suppliers have come through with what we will need, but it still isn't enough."

"It would be wise to stabilize as many regions as we can before venturing into Orlais," Leliana offered. "Not to mention if anyone here has anything they need to take care of beforehand. It will be a while before any of you will be back at Skyhold once you set out."

They all nodded. Solas looked at Idrilla once more and noticed her brows draw together in deep thought. He wondered what could have drawn her attention.

Nanin pushed up from the war table, "Very well, for now let's all get as much rest as we can."

They all departed, Nanin glued to Idrilla's side, along with Dorian, as he pestered her with questions. 

Solas smiled, surprisingly happy with the way all of this turned out.

______________________

Idrilla was glad that everything had been put to rest. Nanin had barely left her side since, having hundreds of questions on what she had done after leaving the Dalish behind, and trying to rebuild the bond they had so long ago. Ohhh and when he learned she could speak their native tongue fluently he was giddy with excitement asking her over and over to say something to him so that he could try translating it himself.

It had been a few days since he had returned to the fortress and it was currently late, the sun having already set. He was running toward her as she waited outside the Tavern, Dorian a ways behind him with his usual sauve and casual pace.

"Idrilla! Can you-"

The boy was cut off when a large shadow came swooping off of her shoulder.

"What the fuck?!"

The boys eyes widened as the creature spread its wings and a faint cry escaped its beak. It charged him with startling speed sending him sprinting away from it in a panic. Nanin screamed, a pitch of which she didn't think him capable of, and tried running faster but to no avail.

Her and Dorian were laughing so hard that they were doubled over and soon people from inside the came creeping out of the tavern to see what was going on.

"Snarky?" Varric chimed as he sauntered out of the building. "What's going on?-"

At that moment, Nanin came bolting past them with Irosylis hot on his heels. Just as she thought she had calmed down, another shrill scream caught her ears.

"Idrilla! Dammit, help me!"

The rest of the inner circle had come out to watch and were laughing at the scene, but she knew it had already gone on for long enough. Pressing her fingers to her mouth she whistled, loud, and it rang out bringing Irosylis to a halt as Nanin scittered away from him. The bird hopped his way back to her, then cocked his head to the side as he gazed at her expectantly.

"Nanin, please come here," she called as she lifted the bird from the ground. "He won't do anything if you are slow."

Nanin was hesitant, but complied anyway. Irosylis watched him warily as he approached, stopping beside Dorian, ready to flee again should the bird do anything.

"This is Irosylis," she adressed the two men. "Come introduce yourselves."

Dorian was confident, "Well, aren't you the little troublemaker," he chuckled.

Idrilla guided him she had done the others and the bird was quick to receive the affections she refuced to give under the circumstances. Then it was Nanin's turn.

A look of suspicion crossed his eyes as she reached for his hand but he didn't pull away. She noted the way the boys eyes lit up with wonder as soon as his fingers carresed the predators feathers and how his hesitancy was ripped to pieces as he took him on his arm. It soon time to join the others so she showed Nanin how to send Irosylis into flight.

"Ir abelas," she apologized as they watched the bird leave. "I should have warned the two of you."

They followed after the crowd, "Are you kidding me?!," Dorian laughed. "That's the funniest thing I've seen in a while."

"Dorian..." Nanin's voice was low, but she knew he was just embarrassed, the darkening of his ears was proof enough.

Their table was in sight and conversation flowed smoothly and drink came in abundance. Laughter filled the air along with the sound of Marydens voice and lute.

Bull and the Chargers were thoroughly teasing Nanin for what happened outside.

"I didn't know what it was!" The boy defeneded.

"You can't win this, Inquisitor," Krem chuckled as he took a sip from the bottle.

"Ugghh, Idrilla fell out of a tree because of a Raccoon! How is me being chased by a LARGE predator bird worse?"

Varric sputtered as he tried to hold back his laughter, "I'm sorry, what?"

Idrilla rolled her eyes, "Very mature, Da'fen, deflect your embarrassment by bringing up my embarrassing stories." She chuckled.

"Is he being serious?" Dorian questioned.

"Yes!" Nanin exclaimed.

Everyone looked her for an explanation, even Solas had focused his attention on her, an amused smirk kinking they side of his mouth.

She sighed, "I was hunting and while I was shadowing an elk, the little thief stole my mothers amulet from my pack. I would have just let go and moved on, but it was the only thing I had that belonged to her so I abandoned my hunt to track the bastard down."

"What happened next?" Varric urged, she could practically see the wheels in his head turning. 

"I followed his trail back to his hideaway. A large tree with many branches and as luck would have it, the thief was at the top so I climbed. My plan was to just kill it, retrieve my stolen property, then take the animal back to camp, but... I couldn't do it."

"Why?" Sera looked incredulous as she tossed back another ale.

"There were cubs inside. Regardless of what was stolen I couldn't just kill the mother and leave them to die of starvation. So I reached in as carefully as I could and took the amulet back, hoping that I would be able to leave before the mother returned. The second I started my descent the sound of scittering paws and hissing grabbed my attention and in my state of hurry I put my foot on the wrong branch. It snapped and I fell, screaming the entire way down."

Nanin burst into a fit of laughter, "It was hilarious. The other hunters and I could hear her screaming profanities from a mile away."

Sera was next to fall over laughing, followed by Bull, Blackwall, and Varric. The others were sympathetic enough to try and hold back but she tell they were straining to do so. She smiled.

She noticed Dorian eyeballing the Violin case next to her seat.

"What is it, Peakcock?"

He huffed at the nickname she gave him, "Just wondering whats in the case. I haven't seen you part with it once. Is it a family heirloom?"

"No, it is an instrument."

He raised a brow at that, but before he could say anything Cassandra spoke.

"Madame Vivienne said she acted as entertainment for the Nobles of Orlais so it makes sense. I'm going to assume you are a bard?" She asked.

Cole appeared beside her, "She gives emotion voice through her fingers. Lets it flow and shape as it pleases. It helps a lot of people." He smiled softly.

"I remember the elders having her sing for holidays. She's always had a talent for it," Nanin smiled brightly. "I didn't know she could play instruments though..."

"Hmmmm, why don't you perform for us then?" Dorian smirked.

"Yeah, prove it!" Sera challenged.

Idrilla's eyes twitched as she pulled the case from the floor and plced it on the table. She opened it swiftly and removed the bow and violin carefully then stood and made her way to Maryden as she finished another song.

"Maryden, do you mind if I play along with you?" She asked, a kind smile fracing her lips.

The woman stared at her in awe before shaking herself from her wonder then smiled cheerfully.

"Of course! Did you have a song in mind?"

"I'll give you a tempo and all you need to do is play somethinh upbeat. I normally play by ear."

She nodded eagerly so Idrilla stepped away, taking her position in the center of the room and faced the girl. She began tapping her foot and Maryden started playing a fast rhythm.

Idrilla began singing softly, figuring out the pitches she would play and creating a melody to go along with it.

Then she raised her bow and matched Maryden. It was fast and intense and soon after she began adding vocals to it, moving along with the music so fluidly that it surprised them all. It was full and clear, bewitching to her audience. She stopped abrubtly allowing Maryden to finish the verse before jumping back in with the previous tempo.

Her voice returned, but this time Maryden sang along with her as they continued on, not stopping until the minstrel smiled and started playing a challenging solo. Idrilla smirked and plucked the strings on her violin to match before lifting her bow once more. Her pitch started low then reached higher. 

It was an intense back and forth between both musicians then it cut off sharply. Idrilla burst out into song once more as they continued playing, adding vocal embellishments as she went. The song slowed and the two women shared a glance, silently agreeing to end the song with a flourish, and when the audience thought they were done they surprised them by playing a short qnd fast outro and bringing it to a sharp end. 

They bowed as the tavern exploded with applause. Idrilla caught Solas’s eyes, they crinkled in the corners from the corner of his lips kinking into a smirk, and she smiled genuinely. She couldn't help the warm feeling that washed over. For once in her life, she felt truly wanted.


	7. Liberosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> She mala, ghi'la em'an - Quickly now, guide us.  
> Atish sar'len'en - Calm yourselves.  
> Ma banal las halamshir mar vhen - You do nothing to further your people.

When Idrilla requested to take a trip to the Brecilian Forest there were mixed reactions.

Cassandra, Blackwall, and Nanin wore confused expressions.

Bull's eye shined with excitement, likely due to the many stories of the beasts that lurked there.

Vivienne and Sera had a shared opinion for once, deciding to excuse themselves. Apparently, in the Enchantress's words, hiking through such a dense forest was abysmal, and being surrounded by so much "elfy-ness" would just piss the young rogue off.

Even Varric didn't look happy with the prospect while Solas and Dorian looked on with curiosity, waiting to hear her reasoning.

Cole lingered at her side eager to help in any way.

"What business do you have there?" Leliana questioned.

"Those woods have been my home for many years and I wish to see how it is fairing. Also, that was my original destination before being brought here by your agents. I have an old friend I've been meaning to see for quite some time and the chaos caused by the rifts is all the more reason I need to go now."

She sighed, "I would wait and do this on my own, but with the veil so thin there as it is, there are likely to me more spirits than normal. More than I could possibly avoid all together."

"Sylvans…" Blackwall confirmed, clearly having remembered their conversation from before.

She could feel the confusion radiate off of many of them so she explained what they were as she had done with the Warden.

"There are Dalish that still inhabit the area, and many human settlements that reside on its outskirts," she added. "The Sylvans can become a major threat if left unchecked. Many are content to stay where they are rooted, but if there are any rifts, they could be driven out."

"Who is this friend of yours?" 

She looked over at Dorian as he twisted his mustache between his fingers, waiting for an answer.

"He is known as the Grand Oak, one of the rarer Sylvans I mentioned before that have not been twisted into a creature of rage."

Leliana gazed at her thoughtfully, "When I was traveling with the Hero of Ferelden we came across a Sylvan who addressed itself as such. He was very charismatic and helped us when we were in need of it."

"He is one and the same," Idrilla smiled. "So I hope you understand my concern for him."

That is what led them to where they are now. Since everyone, except Vivienne and Sera, came the trip was quite lively. Nights at camp were spent around the fire, the air filled with laughter and stories followed by the sound of Idrilla's violin which created a calm atmosphere around them.

All in all, the three weeks on the road were pleasant. Thanks to the Inquisitions work in the Hinterlands they passed through without delay. However, if it weren't for the few rifts they came across they would have arrived at the forest's outskirts a days earlier.

"We will have to forgo our mounts from here," Idrilla dropped down from Sylvas. "The terrain will be too rough for them; too many roots and winding paths, also, the trees will only become more dense further in."

They had stopped in a small village not far from their destination. The man in charge of the stables was more than happy to hold onto their mounts when he had learned they were a part of the Inquisition, not to mention the satchel of gold that was dropped in his hand.

Idrilla led the group through the hills until they saw the treeline.

"Do not stray far from the group," Nanin stated, his voice firm. "It's easy to get lost here."

"Do you think we will encounter any of the Dalish?" Solas inquired.

"It's likely," she glanced his way, but only for a moment. "I hope that's not the case, for multiple reasons, but it will have to be something that is dealt with in the moment."

Hours passed as they traversed the trees until they found signs that Aravels had been through the area. Idrilla narrowed her eyes at the sight; wide paths had been cut through thickets of brush, hoof prints and other tracks could be seen in the dirt. They weren't fresh, but not old enough to suggest that whichever clan had come through there had left either.

She couldn't help but feel like her luck was trying to spite her.

Nanin approached her where she squatted by the trail, gazing in the direction the clan had gone. The others watched from a distance.

"What do you want to do?"

Her eyes flickered toward him then back to the path, "They were headed in the same direction we are. It will be difficult to evade them with such a large group since the clan will have hunters out and scouts on patrol. So the wisest course of action would be to approach them directly, and alert them that we will be in the area in order to avoid any bloodshed."

"Are you sure?-"

"Yes," she interrupted him. "This path will take us straight to them, but you will have to take the lead from here." 

The boy's face hardened, but his eyes betrayed it. Worry was clear but she didn't comment on it, preferring to stay silent as he explained the plan to the group.

She felt eyes on her and caught Solas glancing her way, but ignored that too. Steeling herself for what was to come.

It didn't take long to find the camp, not that it would be easy to miss. There were a dozen or more Aravels around the clearing of varying sizes, all bearing the same colored sails. Tents could be seen as well. The sight was familiar, but it wasn't welcome.

Two scouts approached their group, surprise written on the features at the sight of the elf that led them. From what she could tell, they hadn't noticed her yet so she hid her presence with the others.

"An'diran atish'an," one of them greeted. "What brings you and your… companions here?"

Nanin smiled politely, "I come representing the Inquisition and seek an audience with your Keeper." 

The other man looked at him skeptically, "Can you prove you are what you say you are?"

When the Inquisitor had begun to remove his glove on his marked hand Idrilla intervened, "Is that any way to greet one of your own?" 

She came forward in a flash, shielding the boy as much as possible. The scouts' eyes widened in recognition and fear.

Numbness took root in her chest, "Take us to your Keeper."

"We… we can't!-" they protested. 

"Did I stutter?" She glared. " _ She mala, ghi'la em'an. _ "

They finally complied, turning on their heels, keeping a distance from her. Idrilla looked over at Nanin who released a breath of relief before following after them.

"Was that truly necessary?" Cassandra questioned. "I thought we were trying to avoid conflict."

"Perhaps not, but the Inquisitor being subjected to that line of questioning wasn't either, especially not from his own people. Only their keeper can decide if we are a threat to the clan and that is precisely because we came to them peacefully."

Solas walked beside her, "I happen to agree. They were in no position to judge our intent."

"Well, Tempest looked like a badass so I count that as a win," Bull commented, making Blackwall and Dorian chuckle quietly.

Varric smirked, "You have to admit, Seeker, the look on the boys' faces were priceless."

Idrilla ignored their praise. She had no desire to do what she had done, but the last thing they needed were the Dalish getting in their way. She focused on the many fearful eyes around them as they grew closer to the Keepers Aravel. Cole appeared at her side having sensed her unease. She straightened her posture, taking long confident strides as if she had every right to be there.

Nanin and the scouts stopped in front of a young woman with blonde hair.

"Keeper, these people have asked to speak with you. They claim to represent the Inquisition." The scout's voice shook nervously.

The woman looked them over, "I see. I am Keeper Lanaya, and you are?"

"Inquisitor Nanin Lavellan. It is a pleasure to be able to speak with you."

"Inquisitor?" Lanaya's brow rose. "That is quite the claim, but can you prove it?"

He revealed his marked hand to her and she gazed at it in wonder.

"We had heard that the leader of the Inquisition was one of the Dalish, but I dared not believe it. An'diran atish'an, Lethal'lin, what is it you wish t o speak of?"

"My companions and I thought it wise to inform you that we had business here in order to avoid any confusion."

"Ma serannas, not many would do so, but I must ask," her eyes locked onto Idrilla. "Are you aware of the company you keep?"

Before Nanin could respond, Idrilla spoke, blunt and to the point.

"If you have an opinion on my presence here then you will say it to me, and me alone."

"You are not welcome here, Harellan." She stated.

"Oh, I am well aware of that, but our business does not lie with you. We only seek passage into the forest."

Idrilla walked away, Solas and Cole following after her, and stopped at the Fen'Harel statue at the edge of the camp to wait for Nanin and the others. Her blood was boiling but she held it in.

Not long after, Nanin said his goodbyes to the Keeper so they left, hoping to put as much distance between them and the clan as they could.

  
  


They walked in silence for a while and the sun was beginning to set when Irosylis cried out from above.

Idrilla signaled for the group to stop causing them to move into a combat formation but she halted them. Standing there, relaxed, she called the bird down. He swept through the trees and perched on a branch behind her.

"Whoever you are, you can come out now. You've been tracking us in circles for the last hour."

A young man stepped out of the shadows, his bow nocted and trained on her.

"You will pay for your crimes, Harellan. I will kill you where you stand and finally end your reign of terror," he went on a little longer with his declaration, one she had heard many times over from other young Dalish like himself.

She sighed, "You keep pointing that bow at me and blabbering about how you want to kill me, but I'm beginning to doubt your commitment."

Taking a few steps closer, the boy froze, his starting to shake. Once she was right in front of him she moved the arrow to the side then snapped the shaft in half, dropping it on the ground. A gasp resonated from his lips.

Idrilla grabbed his chin forcefully to keep his eyes on her and he went rigid. She hummed, "You can't be any older than sixteen." 

Gazing over his Vallaslin she could tell it was fresh, still red and inflamed, "June… you are a craftsman, not a hunter."

The boy remained silent and shut his eyes tight so she flicked him in the forehead, making him wince.

"Look me in the eye when i am speaking to you, Da'len, or did your mammae not teach you any manners?"

He nodded timidly and reluctantly looked at her again.

"You are young," she began. "You know nothing of what your people have made of me. You weren't even born when those events transpired so do not claim to know the truth when you've only heard one side of the story."

She let him go after sending a wave of healing magic over the infected lines of ink on his face.

"Go home, Da'len. I do not see a killer in your eyes. No matter how evil you believe your prey to be, I doubt you would have the nerve to release an arrow upon them. Your people have nothing to fear from me."

Idrilla walked away, letting the boy fall to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Come on," she continued past the others. "Let's go before the hunters come looking for him."

"Will he be alright?" Dorian asked.

"Yes."

Solas's voice stopped her, "I take it he is not the first of the Dalish to threaten you?" 

His voice was low and dark, making it sound like he would have gladly killed the boy if he had actually harmed her.

"He was not, and he won't be the last either. There have been many who have confronted me or even attacked without warning. I had to kill most of them because they refused to swallow their pride and listen to reason."

He looked at her sympathetically and placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. 

She took a deep breath, "Dalish history obliterates, and every picture it paints of me is a monster. I have survived, I know my worth, but I have paid dearly for it."

Without having to look Idrilla knew Nanin hadn't joined them. An annoyed huff escaped her lips, "Inquisitor, what are you doing?"

Nanin scowled at her use of his title, "Please don't call me that. I don't like hearing it, especially not from any of you."

Turning to look at him she crossed her arms, "Even so, you didn't answer my question."

He was standing next to the young man, coaxing him to stand, supporting him so he wouldn't fall. She knew what he wanted to do for he was too kind not to.

"You want to take him back to the clan, don't you?"

"We can't leave him here!" He exclaimed, his face twisted with exasperation. "The woods are too dangerous at night, even for us, and we are more experienced than he is."

Idrilla watched him carefully, her eyes narrowing as a challenge of willpower. Clear, piercing topaz colored eyes stared back at her, filled with a determination she knew could not be swayed.

With a click of her tongue she resigned herself, making no effort to hide her distaste, "Ma nuvenin, Nanin, but do not blame me if we are driven out. I will not hold my tongue if they begin spouting accusations at me."

"Nor should you," Solas affirmed. "The abuses and torture the Dalish have put you through were unjustified and vile. You have every right to defend yourself."

"Idrilla," Nanins soft voice grabbed her attention. "I would never ask you to do that. I just don't want the boy to be hurt or worse killed."

She looked away from him, feeling the soft wind blow past her face, hearing the silence that enveloped them, smelling the plants and dirt. She knew that this wouldn't end well.

"Then let's go before the forest takes us."

By the time they reached the Dalish the sun had set. In the darkness, they could see the elve's eyes; they gleamed in the shadowy gaps of the trees. Then, slowly, they crept from their hiding places with their bows nocked and ready.

Idrilla rolled her eyes, " _ Atish sar'len'en _ , your posturing is foolish."

A threatening aura pooled off of her in waves. The hunters scurried away from as she led the group through the entrance. Lanaya rushed toward them from the other side of the camp.

"Why have you returned when it has been made obvious you aren't welcome!" Her lips furled in disdain.

The eyes of her companions darkened, even Cole appeared to be angry.

"You will not speak to her that way!" Nanin's voice echoed loud and sharp catching the Keeper off guard. "I am the one who decided to come back."

There were audible gasps as he gently pushed the young boy they had brought with them toward her, ushering him to join his people once more. 

Cassandra came forward, "The boy followed us then proceeded to threaten Idrilla."

Standing confidently behind her were Bull, Dorian, and Blackwall. Solas, Cole, and Varric stayed near Idrilla as if to shield her from the disgusted and fearful gazes of the spectators that surrounded them.

Idrilla could still see them, however; the way the children clung to their mothers, the elderly ready to protect them should a fight occur, young men and women willing to sacrifice their lives because of foolish pride fed by lies. It was a reaction she was accustomed to even if she wished it weren't so. 

The wind howled in the distance. Aravels creaked as the invisible force pushed through them and people emerged from their homes to see what the commotion was all about. Trepidation lingered everywhere, it was palpable, she could almost taste it. And it was only because she was present. Because she survived her nightmare.

"You all believe me to be this villain that threatens you in some way or another," her voice rang through the camp, calm and collected, but with an emptiness that silenced everyone. "You believe every story that is passed down from your elders to be the truth and it is only because of your complacency that you can be so sure of yourselves."

"How dare you!" Lanaya barely had enough time to speak before Idrilla cut her off with more heated words.

"Tell me, is it your reputation as Keeper that bothers you? That stops you from acknowledging that everything you have been taught could be false? If you can't admit you're wrong how can you ever hope to preserve anything?"

The Keeper did not answer, or rather, would not answer so she continued. Years of pent up emotions finally spilling over.

"It is not cynical to admit the past has been turned into fiction. It is a story, not a fact. The truth has been altered. Whole eras have been added or removed. Wars have been aggrandized, and elvhen struggle relegated to the margins. Villains are redressed as heroes. Generous, striving, imperfect men and women have been stripped of their virtues and turned into figurines of morality or depravity. Whole societies have been fixed with motive and visions and equanimity where there was none. Suffering has been recast as noble sacrifice!"

Her voice grew in intensity, but she couldn't stop herself, she wouldn't. Not even as she watched children sob from a distance because of how frightened they were… of her. 

Too long had she remained silent. She had endured too much pain not to use her voice now.

"Do any of you understand why the history of the elves is in such turmoil?" She started pacing back and forth, her hands shaking as she held back the flames that threatened to burst from her palms. Ambient magic made everything buzz with electricity as it reacted to her emotional state.

"Because too many clans are fighting for the quill, fighting to write their own version of it over the ashes of our ancestors. You all know what's at stake: immortality, the character of civilization, and influence beyond the ages. You are fighting to see who gets to mislead our descendants."

Suddenly her movement stopped, time ceased to exist as they all waited to see what she would say or do next. To their shock… she laughed.

"Ah, but look at how soon you're forgotten… the abyss of endless time that swallows it all. The emptiness of all those applauding hands. The people who praise you - how capricious they are, how arbitrary."

She fell silent, the rage in her throat being smothered with each passing second as she gazed at the many faces around her. She recognized a lot of them: elders who had taught her the skills she now possessed when she was but a little girl, men and women that she had grown up with who now had families. 

Some of the younger people began whispering.

"What if she's telling the truth?"

"Have the elders been wrong?"

"Have we truly preserved nothing?"

Lanaya's next words silenced them and brought her wrath back to a blaze.

"The Dalish are the only hope of preserving our history. We have had no opportunity to build something new."

Idrilla's hands flew up in irritation, flames erupting from her palms before clenching her hands into fists, snuffing them out. Many eyes widened in shock since they were unaware she was a mage. 

"Elves have been given so many chances to be better than they are!" She bellowed. "Halamshiral! The Dales! Even Ostagar! The elves relinquished them all and instead they rot in human cities and are forced into alienages or choose to hide in the woods like cowards because you are too afraid to let go of idle fantasy and move on. You manipulate your young to believe everything you tell them instead of allowing them to find their own path! You create convenient villains, like me, to justify your actions. To keep the truth from ever being discovered! It isn't me or anyone else who decided you were beyond saving. That fault lies on your shoulders.  _ Ma banal las halamshir mar vhen!"  _

Idrilla turned around, marching back toward the forest, only slowing enough to ignite the incense below the wolf statue before disappearing. She needed to be alone, the trees called her, offering her solace in solitude. Finally, the rage had been extinguished.


	8. Anthrodynia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody, sorry for the long wait. Everything has been crazy and I haven't been able to find the time to write. Also, writer's block has been a pain. However, I wanted to make up for it and was able to finally finish this chapter. I know it's a bit short but I still hope you enjoy it. <(^-^)>
> 
> Translations:  
> Vir Bor'Assan ("Way of the Bow") - bend but never break. "As the sapling bends, so must you. In yielding, find resilience; in pliancy, find strength."
> 
> Vir Assan ("Way of the Arrow") - fly straight and do not waver. "Be swift and silent," Andruil taught. "Strike true; do not waver. And let not your prey suffer."
> 
> Vir Adahlen ("Way of the Forest" or "Way of the Wood") - together we are stronger than the one. "Receive the gifts of the hunt with mindfulness. Respect the sacrifice of my children. Know that your passing shall nourish them in turn."
> 
> Vir Atish'an ("Way of Peace") - Dalish following this calling learn the arts of the healer and the mender.
> 
> Vir Banal'ras ("Way of Shadow") - Dalish hunters assume it when a debt of blood must be repaid. Such hunters dedicate themselves to vengeance and nothing else. Thus were born the legends of Dalish assassins.

Solas watched Idrilla disappear into the trees. He could still feel her magic lingering in the air; raw fury mixed with sorrow. It hummed with electricity against his skin and the veil vibrated with a sort of longing. 

Part of him wanted to ease her suffering as no one had done for him so long ago. The other part burned to raze the Dalish camp to the ground and grant her the justice she was owed while screaming his curses upon them. 

Throughout working with her, he had begun to subconsciously call her a friend. In the beginning, he thought that what he felt for her was sympathy, but he soon realized that it was companionship. Idrilla had proven to be an exceptional woman, skilled in many different fields, someone who was capable of so much more than what she had been given. In his time, he had no doubt she would have accomplished great things. It only made him more disappointed in the Dalish and strengthened his need to fix his mistake. 

The conversation going on behind him finally reached his ears.

“You don’t know what she has been through!” Nanin defended.

“What of all of the stories?” Lanaya shot back. “They wouldn’t be told if there wasn’t a fragment of truth behind them!”

“They are just stories…” Nanin’s voice lowered to a threatening octave. “You cannot judge others by what your peers believe them to be. You have to decide for yourself what is true and what is false. Have you ever entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe, the reason why Idrilla is hostile towards the Dalish is that we have never given her the option to do otherwise? From what she told us, there have been multiple Dalish elves who have attacked her, and that’s excluding the young man we escorted here. She has tried ending things peacefully with the people but we have been too stubborn to heed her warning.”

The Keeper fell silent and the Inquisitors face softened at the look of guilt that passed over her features, “You were not born among the Dalish, that much is obvious, so you never knew her before she was painted in the image of what those stories portray. She was soft-spoken and kept to herself, doing everything she was told without complaint. No one had anything to do with her but she never said anything. They would move her around from clan to clan to make room for people that they needed; a new first, hunters, craftsman, when a couple had been bonded or a child had been born. She never had anywhere she truly belonged… The children her age hated her because she was skilled at everything the elders taught her and because of the stories told of her by the other adults. I won’t tell you what my father and the other Keepers did because it isn’t my right to share it. All I will say, however, is pain changes people. It makes them trust less, overthink more, and shut people out.”

Silence enveloped them like a thick fog and Solas could feel it in the air around them as it grew colder. True to Idrilla’s word, the veil was extremely thin there. He knew that it would be as easy as snapping his fingers for the Inquisitor to create a tear there without having intentions to do so. However, he had no desire to linger near these people either. So Solas thought of the next best thing that would ease his current worries.

“Inquisitor,” his voice was calm yet assertive. “I’m going to search for Idrilla. I do not believe it wise to let her stay in the forest alone with the dangers that may lurk here.”

He knew what he was insinuating but didn’t care. He had been irritated when the young man had threatened her, however, he knew that some of the adults wouldn’t hesitate to finish what he had started and that wasn’t something he was willing to tolerate.

“I agree,” Nanin looked around the camp at the many faces that were turned their way. “Don’t go alone. Take Cole with you since Idrilla is more at ease with you two than the others.”

Solas nodded and the spirit in question appeared beside him, “Anger, pain, sadness - so intertwined that their names blur. She no longer remembers their origin clearly. They muddy the water to make it seem deep. Rage claws at her dreams.”

The forest seemed to have a spirit of its own as they searched. Paths that twisted and turned looked as though they would never end and animals could be heard, only adding to the eerie atmosphere. 

Cole had been very quiet but it was obvious something was on his mind.

“What troubles you, Cole?” Solas asked.

“They are afraid of her when they don’t need to be,” his hat obscured his face as he looked toward his feet. “All she has ever wanted was to help and learn and teach, but they never listen…”

Solas lifted a low branch and waited for Cole to pass him before replying.

“Those who can see beyond the shadows and lies of their culture will never be understood. Let alone believed by the masses.”

“It hurts her, the pain buries itself deeper each time,” the boy murmured. “It helped her to voice it earlier but it also broke her more.”

“That’s often what we need to get better,” Solas sighed. “Much like a fractured bone, sometimes it needs to rebroken so it can be reset to heal properly. In her case, she has kept it all bottled up to not harm those around her for so long that finally releasing some of her anger has reopened the wound. The pain will continue to hurt until she can find a way to deal with the trauma she has endured.”

“I’ve tried to help, but nothing works… I can’t make the dreams go away…”

“It’s alright, Cole.”

“Can you help? She’s like you… you understand...”

“I’m going to try.”

They continued looking for what felt like hours when Cole stopped in his tracks and turned towards an almost nonexistent path. At closer inspection, Solas found faint footprints in the dirt so they followed them and the farther in the went the sound of water became more apparent. 

The path came to an end and they finally saw it: The waterfall was crystal clear as it cascaded down the rocky cliff. From that distance it looked like a silver tear falling over the basalt rock formations and into the arctic blue pool at its base; The rippling of the water serene, ethereal.

Solas’s eyes drifted down, locking onto the form that lingered on the bank of the small pool. Idrilla sat on her knees bathed in soft moonlight that crept through the canopy above them, her old leather armor discarded and laid to the side along with her staff and pack. Her hair hanging limply around her shoulders. 

Cole was already at her side before he could think to move.

“ _ I came here every day when I was a girl,”  _ She began without looking away from the water. _ “I prayed to be somewhere else. Back then I only thought about what I wanted, never about what I had been given… _ ”

Solas approached her softly, coming to a stop at her side with hands held loosely behind his back, and waited for her to continue.

“ _ I was moved around a lot growing up, never staying with a single clan for long. I had a tent all to myself because none of the families wanted to share their aravels with the cursed child. The elders would assign work to me to keep me out of the way. Zathrien’s clan taught me the Vir Bor’Assan and the Vir Assan, Clan Sabrae taught me the Vir Adahlen, Keeper Hawen’s clan taught me the Vir Atish’an. Clan Lavellan was kind enough to allow me to study, teaching me to read and write while also allowing me to participate in celebrations through performing…” _

_ “Thinking back on everything I believe Keeper Deshanna knew I was a mage or at the very least was sensitive to magic to some degree, but that hardly matters. Learning I could use magic was an accident, I singed my tunic because one of the boys my age threw a rock at me... I wasn’t naive. I knew what it meant, so I would hide and watch as the Keepers taught their firsts how to control it, coming here to practice in secret. I didn’t have a teacher so I would come back with injuries regularly. I lied about how I got them and kept my magic to myself. I refused to be forced into being a first and having what little freedom I had taken from me in the name of tradition. But watching soon turned into stealing the Keepers’ grimoires… that’s how Nanin learned of my abilities. He caught me putting his father’s book back in his Aravel.” _

A breathy laugh escaped her lips but It quickly turned into a choked sob as she tried to hold it in. Solas was quick to kneel beside her, placing his hands on her shoulders to turn her toward him, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs.

_ “Nothing I did was ever enough… They never saw me as anything other than a bad omen, a burden forced upon them all because my parents were killed by bandits. After they chased me away during Arlathvhen, they all taught me the Vir Banal’ras, and now not even my dreams grant me peace.” _

Her chest heaved erratically, her body began shaking at the effort of trying to regulate her breathing. Her hands clawing at the ground to find some form of stability. 

_ “Idrilla, just look at me. Hold a moment,”  _ Solas pressed his fingers under her chin, gently raising her eyes to meet his.  _ “Good. Now look past me and relax. Listen carefully, the Dalish hurt you. Your mind was wounded and your spirit is compensating, as you might tuck an injured arm at your side. Nothing to worry about. There is no true danger. You’re in control here. Focus on what is here, in this world. Feel the ground. The breath in your lungs. Fabric rustling against your skin.” _

Her breathing started to calm, her pulse slowing gradually. Tears fell from her eyes and Solas pulled her into his embrace gently. 

Idrilla gripped onto his tunic like a vice as decades worth of tears spilled out. Soft whimpers and hushed sobs echoed around them.

_ “Shhhh,”  _ Solas cooed.  _ “It’s alright. It is time you stop keeping it trapped inside yourself. You must confront the agony no matter how awful it may be and release it, or it will torture your every waking moment for the rest of your life. I will help you. I will not leave you alone with your demons.” _

_ “No… no, I don’t want to… I can’t break now for I fear that if I do, I won’t be able to come back,”  _ she wailed. _ “I’m too weak and broken and messed up to do that. I can’t take it anymore. Please, just end me.” _

_ “No.”  _ The thought was abhorrent. How could he ever, under any circumstance, bring himself to harm her? He couldn’t think of a time where he’d be able to.  _ “That is not something I would allow. I care not for how long I have to spend with you nor how many tears there will be to dry. I will do everything in my power to put to rest the things that haunt your mind. A life such as yours is not one which should be ended so lightly, beyond the reasoning that no life should be thrown away with such carelessness.” _

_ “You shouldn’t.”  _ Her fingers curled farther into his tunic.  _ “I’m not whole. I’m just a fragment floating through fractured memories, unable to do anything but watch. I’m not a person… I’ll never be a person-” _

He tipped her head back and cradled her side, lowering his forehead to her own; and even with her eyes swollen, breaths harsh and labored, expression drowning in pain, he focused on her like she was the only thing left in the entire world.

_ “You are more whole than so many I’ve seen with hollow eyes and spirits devoid of morality. For one who suffers so greatly and has hurt for so long, your spirit has survived beyond what I would ever have thought possible. They may not have cared for you, but they did change you. They taught you. They made you who you are now.” _

He never looked away from her. He never faltered. 

More tears spilled from her,  _ “Save me. Please, Solas. Save me.” _

  
  


Some hours later they were making their way back to the Dalish camp, Cole staying as close as possible to Idrilla while Solas guided them. Although he was sure it was unnecessary. 

The closer they got to their destination, however, it became more obvious how anxious Idrilla was. 

She stopped,  _ “I’m not ready to face everyone yet, especially not after my outburst. I’m sure none of the clan members are going to be pleased to see me back so soon.” _

“You’re not evil like they think you are,” Cole muttered softly.

She smiled sadly, “No. To them, I’m much worse.”

_ “Are you sure it’s wise to stay out here?”  _ Solas questioned, concern evident in his gaze.

_ “I will be fine. I know these woods better than all of their hunters combined… I’m just so tired,”  _ Idrilla murmured. Her whole body appeared heavy and her eyes were fogged with a snarl of thoughts too tangled to even begin to make sense.  _ “I keep waiting for something to breathe life into me again but it never comes.” _

She sighed,  _ “I just need some time to collect myself.” _

He nodded in understanding,  _ “What should I tell the Inquisitor?” _

_ “Just… tell him ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on.’ He’ll know what it means.” _

Solas looked in the direction of the camp,  _ “As you wish. How will we find you?-” _

_ “Thank you, Solas.” _

A surge of magic washed over his senses and he snapped his head back toward her but she was nowhere to be seen. 

“Earth beneath four paws, senses heightened, hearing, seeing, and smelling everything all at once,” Cole marveled. “I didn’t know she was a wolf too.”

A howl sounded in the distance as if to respond to the boy’s wonder.

“Come,” Solas said. “Let’s get back.”

Nanin was on them as soon as they stepped foot into the camp, “Did you find her?”

“We found her, but she wasn’t ready to come back yet. She told me to tell you ‘ _ We are such stuff as dreams are made on. _ ’”

The boy’s eyes widened then softened, a small smile formed on his lips,  _ “And our little life is rounded with a sleep.” _

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Solas started quietly. “What does that mean exactly?”

Nanin chuckled, “It’s something she used to say to me whenever she needed a reprieve from the clan but didn’t want me to worry. Simply put, she’ll be back tomorrow and if anything happens we will know.”

“How so?”

“Through dreams. She’s a fade walker like you. I’m surprised you don’t already know considering how close you two are.”

Just as she had never mentioned her ability, Solas hadn’t mentioned his either. He had considered it a possibility but hadn’t gotten around to confirming it. It all made sense now.

“I take it we will be sleeping here tonight?” 

“Yes,” Nanin exhaled deeply. “It’s too dark out to find a decent campsite in the forest now. All we can do is wait till morning. Idrilla will catch up, she always found a back, somehow. Try to get some sleep, Solas.”

With that Nanin retreated to his tent and Solas followed suit having noticed the group had been kind enough to set up his while he and Cole were gone. 

Upon entering he began laying out his bedroll and freeing himself of his armor. His mind racing with worry and wonder alike in regards to the woman who had led them here. 

On one hand, he didn’t want to leave her alone with her thoughts. On the other, he knew this was something she needed at the moment. 

Then there was the knowledge that she was a dreamer. The things he could show her seemed endless. 

However, his first concern was finding a way to help her cope with her past. To finally grant her the peace she has longed for. He knew that it would take more than one session, but it would be a start. All he had to do was to find where to begin.


	9. The Hunter's Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ar'an gen''av'ahna'ma, vis ma ane elana, halani em'an vena ish - We beg of you, if you are able, help us find him.
> 
> Vis ar nadas - if I must
> 
> Belavahn - one with many questions
> 
> Adahlena - daughter of the forest

Every part of nature teaches that the passing away of one life is the making room for another. The oak dies down to the ground, leaving within its rind a rich mold, which will impart vigorous life to an infant forest.

Idrilla thought she had let go. Let go of her anger. Let go of her resentment and allowed it to die. She had spent years maintaining that self-control was strength. Calmness was mastery over oneself. 

She had thought that she had brought herself to a point where her emotions wouldn’t shift based on the insignificant actions of others. A point where she didn’t allow others to control the direction of her life. Where she didn’t allow her emotions to overpower her intelligence. But she had been wrong.

She was thrust into the reality that she hadn’t relinquished any of it. That all she had done was mask it with feigned acceptance, disregarding the festering wound until it became impossible to ignore. Leaving her with no other choice but to finally acknowledge the damage.

Old, tainted, and frigid feelings that were believed to be long buried. The stinging pain that tore at her spirit, a sadness that consumed her heart in a dull ache, a stirring of anger that made her stomach churn. 

But after a cold night of restless sleep, the daybreak brought glimmers of warmth. 

The light dribbled over the forest like molten gold. The leaves shimmered like a mirror flecked mosaic, morning dew sparkled on the bejeweled cobwebs and grass, igniting the birds into a chorus of melodies that drew her from her dreams.

Her eyes fluttered open and her senses were flooded by the vast, archaic forest. 

The trees let through enough dancing beams of sunlight for bright shrubs to flourish in the soft rich soils below. 

Quiet branches suspended around her, and a range of flowers, which desperately tried to avoid the shadows, highlighted the otherwise brown and green lower level.

A mixture of sounds, most belonging to small creatures, reverberated through the air. Synchronized with the rustling of leaves and branches of the treetops in the wind. 

She stretched, easing herself up from her sleeping position, then looked toward the ground from her perch in the massive Oak tree that had been her shelter for the night.

Glancing toward the sky, she took note of the sun’s placement and surmised that even Nanin and the rest of their party wouldn’t be up yet or at the very least hadn’t set out from the Dalish camp so she had time to make it there beforehand. 

It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but she knew she would have to meet her group there and so began her descent down the twisted branches and dropped to the ground, quickly grabbing her things she had hidden in a hole underneath the roots. 

Her journey through the forest was as tranquil as it could be as she traversed the paths. The early morning activity of the wildlife brought a sense of familiarity that calmed her nerves, relieving her of her drowsiness, and before long one of the entrances was in sight.

She could hear a commotion from inside the encampment so she quickened her pace, rushing past the scouts standing guard coming face to face with the sight of the entire clan scrambling about. At the center stood Nanin and the Keeper alongside a distraught young woman with a man who seemed to be attempting to calm her. 

Idrilla approached them carefully to not cause them anymore distress, “What’s going on?”

Nanin’s eyes darted up to hers and his shoulders slumped in relief. It was a reaction she was expecting from him, but it was obvious it wasn’t just because she had returned safely. Something had happened that put him on edge.

“Are you going to answer or?....”

“One of our Da’lin’en has gone missing,” Lanaya replied grimly. “None of the hunters have been able to find any trace of him.”

A frown formed on Idrilla’s face at the news but before she could say anything the woman’s wailing grew louder and the man pulled her tighter into his arms. 

Now that she knew more, Idrilla put together that the pair before her were most likely the child's parents. 

Nanin looked at her pleadingly and she didn’t even have to ask what it was he wanted from her. 

“When was the child seen last before being declared missing?” she asked.

The Inquisitor glanced in the direction of the parents, “Last night… after you left the camp. Many assumed that you had something to do with it, but Solas and Cole spoke in your defense since they were with you for some time.”

She glared at the Keeper, “What makes any of you think I would ever harm a child?”

Lanaya said nothing making Idrilla scoff, “No response is a response. And it's a powerful one. Remember that.”

“I didn’t want to ask,” Lanaya began. “But the inquisitor has spoken avidly on your knowledge of this forest and we don’t have any other option… _Ar’an gen’av’ahna’ma, vis ma ane elana, halani em’an vena ish_.”

At that moment, a group emerged from the surrounding trees. Among them were Solas, Cole, and Dorian. The Vint smiled brightly in her direction and Cole quickly appeared at her side and grabbed her sleeve. Solas approached the group, his gaze trained on her.

“Can you help?” Cole pleaded. “It’s too loud here for me to find him. Everyone is scared. They want him to come home.”

Idrilla’s eyes scanned the camp, taking in the panicked and distraught faces of the clan, then sighed.

“ _V_ _is ar nadas…”_ her eyes lifted to the Keeper, sharp and commanding. “How old is the boy?”

“Why does that matter?” Lanaya questioned.

“An adult would have already found their way back by now. They will normally stay on a trail, only leaving it if they are familiar with the terrain. Children, on the other hand, look for familiar spots instead of trails. They can’t judge distance or direction and tend to move randomly,” Idrilla huffed irritably. 

“Young people from the ages thirteen to fifteen tend to become lost in groups of two or more. They rarely wander far from where they were last seen. They would have seen or heard people searching for them and gone to them immediately. Children, ages one to three, will look for the most convenient place to lay down and are, as a result, very difficult to detect. Others who are a little older, four to six, become hard to find since they won’t respond to who are looking for them because they are taught to avoid strangers, which isn’t a bad thing, but the point still stands.”

“So I’ll ask again, how old is the boy? It’s an important distinction that will decide what the next step will be.”

The boy's mother stepped forward, “His name is Belavahn and he just reached his tenth year.”

“You’re certain he is the only one missing?” 

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” Idrilla’s brows drew closer together. “Have you searched within a two-mile radius of the camp?”

“We have been searching all morning,” Solas answered. “There haven’t been any signs of the child. It’s as if he vanished.”

“Keeper Lanaya, have any of the hunters reported any unusual activity in the forest? People or strange animals?”

The Keeper froze and her shoulders went rigid, “Adahlena said that she spotted a group of humans entering the forest a few days ago. We didn’t think anything of it since they haven’t come near the camp. It seems I made a mistake.”

“I suspect this was a kidnapping. If Belavahn were only lost you all would have found him by now,” Idrilla stepped in front of the mother and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “To be able to find him I am going to need a piece of his clothing. Preferably something he has worn recently.” 

She looked at her skeptically but complied.

Idrilla watched as she sprinted toward her aravel, “Just to be clear, Keeper, I am not doing this for you or the clan. I’m doing this for the boy and his parents, no one else.”

When the mother returned she took the small grey tunic from her hands carefully.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Track his scent.”

Idrilla lifted the fabric to her nose, closed her eyes and magic flooded the air, then took a deep breath. When her eyes opened they were blacked out.

After handing the fabric back, she stepped away turning in the direction the scent was coming from before dropping to all fours. Large claws sprouted from her fingernails. Her shoulders rolled and her spine twisted. They could hear her bones and joints cracking, fur began growing over her body. With a jolt forward, and a deep roar erupting from her lips, she shifted completely. 

Her long dark grey fur was highlighted in silver along her shoulders and back, her paws and claws dug into the dirt as she turned to look at them. 

“She… she turned into a bear…” one of the hunters stared down at her form in shock.

Idrilla’s guttural voice reverberated from her chest, “This way.”

She began walking, her nose to the ground, her black eyes searching her surroundings. 

Nanin and the rest of their party, the boy’s father, along with a number of the hunters, followed after her.

“Are you alright? That looked painful.” Nanin asked.

“I will be sore. I’m not accustomed to this form. I haven’t used it in a long time,” she rumbled out.

“She likely consumed most of her mana,” Solas added. “She will need a lyrium potion.”

  
  


Clear paths turned into dense trees and thickets of thorns. 

Something caught her eye and she turned toward it, nose twitching as she searched a thick patch of brush.

“Smart boy,” she grumbled as she pulled out a piece of ripped fabric. “Come on, we’re close.”

She sprinted past the trees, her vision a blur of green and brown until an old ruin came into view. 

“Stop!” she commanded, halting the group behind her. “He’s in there.”

Idrilla shifted back and lowered herself down to the ground.

“Here,” Solas offered her a potion and she took it gratefully, downing it in one go.

“Belavahn is in there?” One of the hunters muttered as she stared at the crumbling walls. “What was this place?’

“It is a tomb,” Idrilla whispered. “Most likely built for someone who once lived in this forest long ago. From the size of it, I don’t think it was a noble but probably someone close to one. A servant or lover maybe, probably the same person. I can’t tell much else since the forest has destroyed most of the building's detail. It’d be an incredible find if the inside hasn’t suffered much damage.”

“Did you smell anyone else inside?”Cassandra asked.

“I detected seven or eight other scents, maybe more, coming from the ruin.”

Nanin sucked in a slow breath, “This could get messy and quickly. We are going to have to approach this with caution so that the boy won’t be harmed or caught in any crossfire.” 

“Most tombs in this forest have a similar layout,” Idrilla’s eyes traveled over the building carefully. “If I’m right there should be a back entrance. One in the front for people to come and pay their respects and one in the back for servants to come and take care of the body while the inhabitant was in Uthenera.”

“We’ll split into groups, the archers can find a vantage point and take aim from the trees through the holes in the ceiling while the group coming in from the back sneaks in. Those of us going in from the front will flank both sides of the entrance while I distract them. That will limit any options they have for escape.”

“You’re going to go in there alone? You have no idea who or what may be inside.” Solas glared at her sharply.

“Your concerns have been noted, but not entertained. We need someone who is going to be able to go in there and not lose their cool so it has to be me. Plus, for this to work, I need all of you. I doubt the clan’s hunters have much experience with this kind of tactic.” 

The boy’s father stood next to her expectantly, “What about me?” 

Idrilla looked up at him, “You are a rogue, correct?”

He nodded.

“You have the most important job for this mission: Get Belavahn out before any fighting can start. You are the only person here he is going to trust implicitly.”

“Nanin, Cole, Blackwall, and Solas will go in from the back and you will join them. Solas will know what to look for to find the entrance. Bull, Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric are with me. I’ll signal with this,” an immolation glyph lit up on her palm. “For now, get into position. One of the archers will signal when the group in the back is ready. Let's do this as fast as possible.”

They dispersed quickly and quietly. The archers swiftly found their perches and the second group disappeared behind the building. Idrilla and her group carefully made their way to the front entrance.

“How are you so calm right now? You are about to march right into enemy territory, yet you’re still a ray of sunshine, cheery as ever,” Varric said sarcastically. “How?”

“It’s simple,” Idrilla’s smile took on a menacing edge. “If I don’t stay cheery, as you called it, for this band of misfits, the entire plan will dissolve into hopeless depression and impotent rage. And we can’t afford to let that happen.”

  
  


Bull and Cassandra took point on either side of the doorway with Dorian and Varric behind them. Idrilla glanced up and it finally came. A bird call she hadn’t heard in a long time range out through the trees.

She strode inside, hands held loosely behind her back to give off an air of confidence, and made her way down the short walkway to the central chamber. 

The smell of meat and ale filled the air solidifying her suspicion that the kidnappers didn’t think they would be found so easily. She hid and listened for a moment.

Laughing echoed through the chamber.

“The knife ears were so fuckin’ stupid,” One of the perpetrators bellowed. “They have a big camp and didn’t have a single guard out this morning.”

“Shut the fuck up, Emery,” A woman barked out. “Your loud ass voice is annoying. Who's t’say the savages aren’t near, hmm? You’ll lead’em straight to us.”

“Why d’we need the runt anyway, Tadia?” Another voice asked. “Couldn’t we just loot whatever we can find in the ruins?” 

“You touched in the head, Cenni? We’re gonna hold the boy for a day or two and when they think that he’s gone f’r good, we’ll bring him and demand a ransom. They’ll tell us where all the treasure in this damned forest is.”

“Looters…” Idrilla growled and finally made her presence known.

The group jumped up in a panic, clumsily drawing their weapons.

“See, I told you they’d come lookin’ for the brat,” Cenni blurted out, his hands shaking around the hilt of his sword. 

“Oh, shut it!” Tadia snapped. “It’s just one woman.”

“They’re amateurs…” Idrilla noted, taking in the battered armor and weapons they carried along with their filthy appearance. They were all skin and bone. “Just street scum who think they can do better here than in the city. They have no idea what they're doing or who they’re dealing with.”

“You are trespassing in my home… I suggest you leave. You’ve spoiled this forest enough with your stumbling.”

“Ha!” Emery barked out a laugh. “You make it sound like you own the whole forest.”

“This is my territory. Even the Dalish know that. They are only here because I allow them to be. Now, I’m going to give you one last chance to flee before this turns ugly.”

“Cocky aren’t ya?” Tadia taunted.

Idrilla’s face stayed placidly neutral, “I can kill every person in this room before most have the chance to move. Skills like that do wonders for a person's self-confidence, skills you do not share.”

She could hear the boy crying softly in the back and she glanced his way in time to see his father grab him and leave as swiftly as he came.

“I’d like to see you try!” Emery snarled.

Tadia charged and Idrilla summoned claws, swiping her from chin to ear. Blood poured from the wound and the woman screamed. Her friends jumped in as arrows began to rain from above.

“Times up,” Idrilla stated and detonated the glyph, signaling for the group to make their move. 

Bull and Cassandra rushed in with Varric and Dorian close behind, blocking the door. Then Nanin and his group joined the fray. 

It was chaos. Screams of anger and pain echoed through the room and the close quarters made it difficult to maneuver. 

“Tadia!” Emery bellowed. “There are too many of ’em! We need to run!”

Tadia growled, “Fuckin’ cowards-” 

A mine detonated under her feet, silencing her for good. 

Bull swung his hammer, crushing his opponent into the wall. It exploded under the force of the attack, giving the looters an opening. 

“Fuck this!” Cenni sputtered then bolted.

“Shit!” Bull started after him but stopped when Idrilla burst past him in a flash of orange and black fur.

A roar spilled from her jaws as she closed in on the man. He looked back and screamed, trying to run faster but it was too late. 

She pounced on him, a guttural growl rumbled through her chest as her jaws locked around the man’s jugular and dragged him to the ground. He thrashed and screamed in terror, hitting her and trying to pry her teeth out of him. Each time he jerked, her teeth sank deeper, letting the taste of iron coat her tongue. 

With one final jerk, his throat ripped open sending blood gushing everywhere, covering her in the thick red liquid. When the man fell limp she let go and rose to her feet to meet the others. 

Combat had ceased, the looters lay dead on the ground when she returned. Blood coated her chin and she spat out what remained in her mouth as everyone looked at her in astonishment.

“Let’s get back… I need to bathe.” She said nonchalantly.

She felt lighter than she had that morning. She wasn’t sure if it were the adrenaline or what, but she didn’t like it. Especially since the feeling had filled her as soon as she had sunk her teeth into her prey.

“Damn, you look like a berserker!” Bull laughed heartily. “Was it good for you too?”

Idrilla gazed up at him, noticing that his pupils were blown wide, “No. Not everyone gets off to violence like you do, Bull.”

Solas handed her a cloth to wipe her face, “Transforming into a bear and then a tiger without rest… are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he chided.

“I gotta impress you somehow,” she chuckled wearily as she cleansed herself of the blood.

She suddenly went pale, as if she had been painted with white-wash, even her lips looked like they were barely there, “I think I’m gonna-”

Then with one step backward she crumbled to the ground like a puppet suddenly released from their strings.

“ _Lethal’an_!”


End file.
